Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“You’re my worst nightmare,” she shoots back. Not under her breath.
“By all means, Katie,” I say, spreading my hands to the side. “Feel free to call your other emergency contact. Oh, wait . . .”
Katherine looks away quickly, and I feel a knot of guilt in my chest at the realization that my barb landed a little more sharply than I intended.
Obviously, her reasons for not updating her emergency contact information have less to do about oversight or some sort of weird revenge agenda, and more to do with the fact that . . .
Katherine doesn’t have anyone else.
I can’t seem to make up my mind how I feel about this.
Katherine’s attention returns to the doctor. “So, what’s the story? When can I go home?”
“Well, we got the results of your CT scan.” The doctor glances my way, clearly reluctant to discuss Katherine’s medical details in front of a nonfamily member.
Katherine picks up on this too because she waves her hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Tom and I used to be . . . lovers.”
“Gross,” I mutter. “Don’t phrase it like that.”
“We were married, actually,” Katherine clarifies. “I know. It’s hard for me to believe too. But I was the love of his life who broke his heart.”
Now it’s my turn to look away, but not before I see her frown. Perhaps I’m not the only one shooting unintended barbs with unexpected landings.
The doctor wisely declines to acknowledge any of our romantic history and instead studies her tablet once more. “As we expected when you were brought in, that nasty headache you’re feeling goes hand in hand with a concussion.”
“Impossible,” I say. “Her head’s much too hard for that.”
It’s not one of my best quips, and both the doctor and Katherine ignore me.
“How bad a concussion?” Katherine asks, frowning.
“Well, you lost consciousness for a good while, so we’re definitely talking more than a little bump on the head. But I see no reason why you won’t make a full recovery.”
“Excellent.” Katherine is already shoving aside the hospital blankets. “Let’s get me some magic pills for this headache, locate my phone, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Not so fast,” the doctor says, stepping forward and setting a hand on Katherine’s shoulder before she can stand. “Concussions are a minor traumatic brain injury, but they’re still a brain injury. You’ll need follow-up observation to ensure we’re not dealing with any serious side effects.”
“Thanks, but I’m good,” Katherine says. “As Tom pointed out, I’ve got a hard head.”
“Actually, it’s not just the head that I’m concerned about.”
Katherine goes still with just enough worry on her face that I have to resist the urge to move closer, to offer comfort that I know she won’t want. Not from me.
The doctor is reaching behind Katherine, gently pulling aside the side of the gown. “You got a pretty nasty gash back here just between your shoulder blades. It’s a good eight inches long and was deep enough to require stitches.”
“Jesus.” I drag a hand over my face, more bothered than I want to be by the news. “What the hell happened, Katie?”
“None of your business,” she snaps. “Hasn’t been in a long, long time.”
“My understanding,” the doctor cuts in before we can go into full battle mode again, “is that Katherine’s taxi was T-boned at an intersection by another driver who mistakenly hit the accelerator instead of the brake. The medics said that based on the state of the crumbled cab, she got pretty lucky.”
“Yeah. I’m feeling real lucky,” Katherine mutters, though the sarcasm lacks her usual trademark edge. “How’s the driver?”
“He’s fine. Treated at the scene with just a couple scratches.”
“Good,” Katherine says, distracted. “That’s good.”
“I’d like to keep you for at least a day. Then we can assess,” Dr. Palmer says.
“An entire day!” Katherine exclaims. “For what’s basically a paper cut and a headache?”
The doctor is impressively patient. “Well, in addition to the standard postconcussion observation, you’ll also need someone to change the gauze on your back every few hours. To keep an eye out for infection. Unless you have someone who can stay by your side around the clock for the next few days to help you out?”
Neither the doctor nor Katherine so much as glance at me as a possibility for this role, and I’m relieved. I think.
Katherine hesitates only a moment before nodding emphatically. “Not a problem. Once I get my phone back, I’ll give Joel a call.”
My head snaps up. Joel? Who the hell is Joel?
And why do I have the nagging sense that I should know that name?
“Oh. Well, great.” The doctor smiles, looking a little relieved. “I’ll figure out where your things are and have them brought in.”
The doctor pauses in the doorway and turns back. “I can’t release you until Joel gets here. We’ll need to explain to him how to change the bandage, which symptoms to watch for.”