Page 118 of Free to Judge
The beepingof her heart monitor is the only sound in the room when I finally step inside.
Yet, Kalie is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
It doesn’t matter that her face is a mottled backdrop of blues and purples overlayed with bandages. Her arm is tucked protectively to her side. While pale blue is definitely her color, the hospitalgown hangs off her slender frame and is streaked with betadine and other substances I hope aren’t blood.
Her hair, which was glossy and elegant for the Fair Harvard Annual Reunion earlier, is now tangled against the pillow. But none of that matters. She’s conscious. Alive. Still, I’m certain I don’t take a complete breath until her gaze flickers up.
Better still, she’s as stubborn as ever. “I’m fine.”
“Cracked ribs, concussion, and you call that fine?”
“It’s a hell of a bruise to my ego since I was just told I can’t run for the next three months. But I’m not dead.”
I choke on tears and laughter. “Not funny.”
“It is to me. I survived.”
I can’t move closer. Not yet. She’s just a few feet away, but the distance between us makes it feel like miles. Especially when everything about her screams fragile.
“You scared the hell out of me,” I finally manage.
Her head tips back before she admits, “I was scared too.”
Just as I’m about to pour my heart out, the door opens behind me. A doctor—no, an intern—young and annoyingly confident, steps in holding a tablet.
“Ms. Marshall.” He flashes Kalie a smile that lingers far too long. “I’m here to check your vitals.”
She huffs, “I don’t need babysitting.”
“You’re on a concussion watch. We babysit even the unwilling.”
The intern reaches for her wrist. She gives it begrudgingly, amused.
Even as he checks the dial of his watch while holding her wrist, he tries to charm her. “Were you on a photoshoot gone wrong when they brought you in? That dress? Sexy.”
My spine snaps so hard that I’m surprised the chiropractor on duty doesn’t rush down to check on me.
“I try to make dramatic entrances,” she says dryly, glancing toward me.
“You’re something,” he remarks appreciatively, eyeing her.
I want to wrap his stethoscope around his neck and hang him from the nearest air vent. I try to justify that it wouldn’t be murder. After all, hospital staff shouldn’t be hitting on patients.
Right?
Kalie encourages him with a small laugh before groaning and holding her ribs. I shoot forward, but she waves me back. “I get that a lot.”
The intern gives her a wink even as he types in her vitals. “You need anything, just press your call button. I’ll look for your signal. I’m here all night, just for you.”
As the door closes behind him, I scowl, but that doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.
“Now, that was fun.”
“Watching me want to squeeze the life out of someone for seeing you flirt with them? If that’s how you get off.”
She lifts her good eyebrow. “Now you know how I felt when I saw that picture. And he didn’t even touch me beyond taking my pulse.”
I flinch. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
