Page 205 of Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia 1)

“You don’t need to do that, mom,” my eyes started to close again but I forced them open.

“I’ll find a way to see you tomorrow,” she promised.

“Okay,” I swallowed, because selfishly, I wanted to see her. I was hurt, and I wanted my mom to comfort me, like a small child sick with the flu.

Trace came back with my water and a doctor followed behind him.

“I’m Dr. Richards,” the gray-haired man said, grabbing a clipboard attached to the end of my bed, and looking over it thoroughly. “I’ve been following your progress closely and you’re doing extremely well. You sustained quite a beating,” he looked at me with kind blue eyes. “You’re lucky to be alive, Olivia. Count your blessings.” He skimmed over my chart again and placed it back in its slot at the end of the bed. He looked me over and said, “I want to keep you, for at least four more days, to make sure you’re breathing okay and everything’s fine with your lung and ribs. If that checks out, you’ll be free to go home.”

“That sounds great,” I breathed.

“I want you to try walking, today. I can see that you’re tired, but before you go to sleep, I’d like for your mom or husband to walk the halls with you,” he smiled kindly.

“Sure,” I agreed. “Wait, wha—”

Trace silenced me with a hard glare.

What was going on? Had we gotten married while I was sleeping or something?

“Walking’s fine,” I tried to cover myself.

“I’ll check in on you tonight,” he smiled and strode from the room.

“Husband?” I snapped, eyeing Trace.

He grinned sheepishly. “If I said I was your boyfriend they wouldn’t let me stay around the

clock. So, be a good girl, and pretend to be Mrs. Wentworth.” His smile turned cheeky.

“You’re ridiculous,” I shook my head.

My mom stood and moved the chair back to its original spot. “I have to go. I love you, Liv.” She kissed an uninjured spot on my forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you too, mom,” I smiled.

Trace waved goodbye to my mom. “I’m going to go get a nurse to unplug you from all of this junk,” he pointed at the various monitors I was hooked up to, “so you can get some walking done.”

“Okay, I’ll—uh—be here,” I joked.

He shook his head at me and left.

I forced my arm to move, reaching for the cup of water. Being helpless, was getting old really fast.

I managed to get my hand to grip the cup and slowly brought it to my lips. My body was so sore and weak that I knew walking was going to suck the last of my energy right out of my body.

“I hear you want to walk,” the nurse smiled, breezing into the room. The scent of her floral perfume permeated the air around her.

“More like, I’m being forced,” I pouted.

“Walking will be good for you. Just do ten minutes and come back. You don’t have to walk for long. If you’re tired after five minutes, that’s fine too. Don’t overexert yourself, but you do need to move some.”

Great, no one was on my side.

In no time at all, she had me unhooked from most of the machines except for the IV and oxygen tank that had those weird pointy things stuck in my nose, because both of those wheeled along beside me.

“I can take it from here,” Trace assured the nurse as he draped a blanket over my shoulders.

I leaned heavily against him as we strode down the carpeted hall. The oxygen tank’s wheels kept making this annoying shrieking sound.

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