I frowned. “That’s great news, but I thought the smoke damage was severe?”
The nurse looked up, her brown curls bouncing with the movement. “She’ll be fine with rest and medication. Her x rays came back clear, her lungs weren’t affected enough to require any major intervention. We’re prescribing medication and something for her throat to dissolve in hot tea, which should help soothe the irritation. She’ll have some discomfort for a few days, but her full recovery shouldn’t take long.”
She paused, a small dimple appearing as she smiled. “Though, she might smell like a bonfire for a while.”
I chuckled. “She’ll probably be grateful to smell anything at all. And who doesn’t love a bonfire?”
“Exactly,” she said with a laugh.
“Thanks for letting me know. Could you send someone to explain this to her directly? I don’t think anyone’s checked on her recently.”
“Of course,” she said, rising from her chair and heading off without further explanation.
Satisfied, I made my way back to Savannah’s room, only to find her with a nurse already attending to her.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, pausing at the curtain. “Should I step out?”
The nurse, a tall, slender woman with skin the color of milk chocolate gave me a bright white smile and shook her head. She had a blood pressure cuff on Savannah’s arm and was pumping it up. “No, I’ll be done shortly. You’re not in the way.”
With that, I approached the bed, giving Savannah a smile. She didn’t look happy. Her face reflected the kind of weariness that went beyond physical pain. I hated seeing that. It was probably from her pain coming back.
“They said you could leave soon, Savvy. You don’t have any major damage that would require staying in the hospital. You want me to text Marcus and ask him to come here?”
Savannah shook her head. The nurse removed the blood pressure cuff and wheeled the machinery out through the split in the curtain. She left it open so I got up and closed it.
Returning to the seat, I held out my hand and she put hers in it. I covered it with my other hand like I had before and squeezed it comfortingly.
“Are you okay? Your throat is bothering you again?”
She nodded, a look on her face that made me want to pull her into a hug and take away all her pain. I couldn’t remember the last time my heart melted for a woman like it did for Savannah in that moment. I resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss her.
“It’s not just my throat.” Her voice was barely audible. “I can’t stop thinking about Alana. If we can’t prove Roger set that fire, he might get visitation—maybe even custody—with the right lawyer.”
“Does he even have the resources for a good lawyer?” I asked. “Does he have wealthy parents? Anyone who would help him?”
Her expression tightened. “I don’t know. He didn’t during the trial—he had a public defender. But things can change.”
Savannah looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown. I squeezed her hand gently. “If it comes to that, you’ll have help. Whether it’s my support or financial backing, you’re not fighting this alone.”
Her gaze drifted past me, lost in thought. I decided to change the subject, hoping to ease her worry.
“When you’re discharged, you and Alana can stay at my house. I’ve got plenty of room, and if it makes you feel better both of you can stay in the same room. It’ll be safer than your place until repairs are done.”
I could see the stress on her face leaving as she listened to my proposal. I was excited about it and hoped she would agree. It had just come to me, a spur of the moment idea that would guarantee not only their safety but my happiness. I would have a family to take care of and protect. Something I had always wanted but had just never materialized for me.
She blinked, her focus returning to me. “Are you sure? Alana’s messy, and I’m not exactly a neat freak.”
I grinned. “I’ll stock the fridge with kid-friendly snacks and deal with any messes. It’s a small price to pay for peace of mind.”
Her sigh was soft and content. Trust flickered in her eyes, a precious gift considering what she’d been through.
Two hours later, Savannah was riding in the passenger seat as I drove her to my parents' house. I’d left the car seat in the back since I’d be the one picking up the little girl anyway.
She was quiet, following the doctor’s advice to speak as little as possible. He’d even joked about avoiding karaoke, which had made her laugh—until it hurt, prompting an immediate apology from him.
When we pulled into the driveway, my parents were on the porch, rocking in their chairs. Alana was playing on a mat in front of them but leapt to her feet when she saw us.
She sprinted for the edge of the porch, my parents yelling after her. At the top of the steps, she stopped abruptly, gripping the railing with tiny hands as she descended carefully. My parents’ approving nods and encouraging coos carried all the way to the car.
