Page 754 of Hell Hath No Fury
Samuel slanted him a knowing look. “We should finish up here in an hour or two. I bet they’ll keep her overnight for observation.”
That had nothing to do with him.Shehad nothing to do with him.
And yet.
Three hours later, he found himself at the emergency room desk, asking about Kennedy James. The woman barely glanced up from her monitor.
“I’m sorry, sir. We can’t give out that information.”
He could get around that. He could just tell them he was on the fire department’s arson investigation team and needed to ask some questions. It wasn’t even a lie. Hewason the arson investigation team, and even though he could tell the fire was an accident, he had a deep and burning need to ask her how she was doing.
Instead he found himself saying, “I’m her husband.”
That got her attention. She narrowed her eyes. “Are you?”
He nodded.
“We need you to fill out some paperwork.”
He gritted his teeth. “Okay.”
She took her time gathering up some papers on a clipboard. “She told us she didn’t have insurance.” She pursed her lips. “Or any payment information on her. We’ll need a credit card on file.”
“Happy to.” He wasn’t sure she believed him, but he knew she’d be happy to take his money. “I’m sure you guys have taken great care of her.”
She flushed. “Of course, sir.”
Bullshit. Kennedy was probably languishing in some corner of the triage center. They were going to spend their resources on someone with the deep pockets of an insurance company behind them. He was tempted to raise a stink, but that would just expose the fact that he wasn’t married or related to her at all. Besides, he knew what a serious case of smoke inhalation looked like, and she didn’t have it.
He scribbled down some shit as her information that they’d never be able to read much less verify and handed over a creditcard and ID. She raised her eyebrows—probably at his last name—but didn’t question it. Whatever. He was good for it.
When they led him back, his guess was confirmed. Kennedy was lying in a dimly-lighted nook barely long enough to enclose the hospital bed, surrounded by too-short curtains. She was wearing a standard blue hospital gown—stiff and waffle-stamped—and he was annoyed because he knew she didn’t like it.
“Hey,” she said faintly.
He wondered if she had dozed back here. He wondered if he should leave her alone.
He sat down. “You get checked out by a doctor yet?”
“I’m not sure. Someone came by. A few people.”
To take her vitals and make sure she wouldn’t die on their watch. To get her nonexistent insurance information so they could get paid. Hell. She didn’t need extensive medical treatment but neither did she need to wait around for hours between other patients with god-knew-what diseases.
If she were his, he probably wouldn’t even have brought her to the hospital, just treated her with a warm bath and hot chocolate. He wouldn’t have her living in some firetrap 1970’s duplex beside neighbors too busy fucking to notice a goddamn fire. And he sure as hell wouldn’t be sitting four feet away from her, while she looked small and frail.
She wasn’t his.
“Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “I’m okay.”
But she wasn’t. Anyone could see that if they bothered to look at her. No insurance, no next of kin to sit by her side, and oh by the way, her house had been burned to a shell. Not okay.
Screw it. He reached for her hand, grasping only her fingertips as if they were in some sort of ballroom dance, but really he was just waiting.
She turned her hand over and held his. Her eyes fluttered closed.
“Get some sleep.” He squeezed gently. “I’ll stay until the doctor comes.”
