Page 406 of Not Over You

Today was no different. Jesus, she hadn’t even eaten her too-soft eggs and bread that’d only seen a flash of a toaster, and there he was, with his “happy happy” as if the patients were at an exclusive hotel rather than stuck in this godforsaken place.

She hated every second.

The pungent scent of disinfectant clung to everything from her hair to her clothes, the smell seeping up her nostrils until every other fragrance ceased to exist. The food sucked. The guy in the room next to hers wailed for most of the night, meaning she was seriously sleep deprived. But the worst was that being in here reminded her she wasn’t like normal people. She had a flaw, a defect that hung over her like the blackest thundercloud.

If the doctor didn’t bring good news when he arrived for his rounds today, she’d stage a breakout. The increase in her meds had done the trick. She felt back to normal, other than the foul mood that made her want to take Santa’s bell and shove it somewhere damned painful.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. She categorically refused to spend the holidays stuck in this dreadful room with its bland, cream walls and on-the-murky-side faded gray tiles. She craved her own bed with her five hundred thread sheets and comfy mattress, the buttery yellow of her bedside lamp rather than these awful harsh blinding lights. Oh, and proper coffee. It should be a crime to call what they served here coffee.

Okay, Lori. Dial it back. It wasn’t the staff’s fault. The nurses and doctors were kind, and the care above reproach. She just wanted to go home.

“Are you decent?” A grinning Zane poked his head around the door. “And is it safe? I brought chocolates. A peace offering to tame the fiery beast.”

She laughed. With Zane, there was nothing else to do other than laugh. “You’re a crazy idiot.”

He set down an enormous box of chocolates beside her bed. “Your parents said to call them once we know what’s happening, and Dayton sends his best and asked me to tell you not to worry about work. I told him I wasn’t a miracle worker.”

“It has been on my mind how much I’m missing.”

“Your team is on it.”

“I know. I’m lucky to have them.” She unwrapped the cellophane off the chocolates, scanned the card, and plucked out a hazelnut one. “Yum. Proper food.”

“Chocolate isn’t food.”

“Have you seen what they try to pass off as food here?” She dove in, this time for a strawberry cream. “God, these are amazing. You’re a marvel.”

“Have they said whether you’re getting out today?”

“Doctor hasn’t done his rounds yet. Doesn’t matter what he says, though. I’m getting out today.”

“And if the doc disagrees?”

“You distract him with the chocolates, and I make a run for it.”

“The way you’re going through them, there won’t be any left.”

“I know. They’re delicious.” She handed the box to Zane. “Take them away or I’ll eat them all.” She sucked melted chocolate off her fingers, and Zane’s eyes darkened as he watched her. “Down boy. Your turn will come.”

He reached inside and helped himself to a chocolate. “Not until you’re recovered.”

She expelled a sigh. “Not that old chestnut again.”

“Old chestnut?” Zane frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s British. I read it online on some news article or other and I liked the sound of it. It means anything that’s repeated over and over again.” She let her eyes roll back in her head. “I’m more than capable of hanging on to a headboard while you do what you’re so very good at.”

“Very good, huh?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah, but not excellent. Room for improvement.”

His mouth popped open, and he pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.”

A knock came at the door, and then the doctor entered, stethoscope hanging around his neck. With him were two nurses bringing up the rear. Uh-oh. They’d come en masse. That didn’t bode well. Maybe they were his protection for when she went for the jugular if he told her she had to stay in for another night—or worse.

“Miss James, how are we today?”

Why do doctors always use “we” to describe a single person?

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