“It’s a little funny.”
As I laugh-weep into my friend’s shoulder, a concerned-looking nurse appears in the doorway. “Rafiq Shadid?”
Wiping my eyes, I answer, “That’s me.
Still uncertain, he walks into the room. “Dr. Bash said to walk you back to your husband’s room.”
Parker and I look at each other and snort, dissolving into giggles.
“Yessir. Take me to my husband.”
33
Everett
Jesus. Getting shot suuuuuucks, but damn the drugs are good.
When Rafi walks into my hospital room with about three hundred Steri-Strips across his forehead, wearing a comically large set of scrubs, I blame the Dilaudid for thinking it’s funny.
“Who put all those things on your head, baby boy?”
I snicker at my joke, then immediately regret it.
Dilaudid’s good; it ain’tthatgood.
He scowls and sticks his lip out as he reaches for my hand, and I wonder when I’ll be recovered enough to take him to pound town.
“Some fucking twelve-year-old with a fake medical degree,” he answers, self-consciously patting his forehead.
Lolz, that’s so funny…ouch.
“I’m sorry, baby, it doesn’t look that bad.”
His scowl deepens because he knows I’m lying. And I am. That shit on his head is hilarrrrious. But I can’t laugh because it’ll hurt like a motherfucker.
I’ll snicker internally.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his face morphing from scowling to concerned.
Pretty face is soooo pretty.
“Huh?” I ask, feeling like I may have forgotten something.
“You looked like you were having a seizure.”
He’s handsome and cute, too.
“Oh, so silly. I was sn— Um, internal. Internal snickering. Hurts less than the LOL. So I’m doing the IS.”
“Internal snickering,” he responds, and his laugh makes me feel a million good things at once. He pushes my hair out of the way, giving me a forehead kiss. Mmmm, that’s nice.
I go to return the gesture, but my hand is attached to things. Tubes. “Question, why does it feel like there’s a pipe shoved up my prick?”
“Because there is, in fact, a pipe shoved up your prick.”
That’s Anders. He’s super handsome in a doctor’s coat.
“You look like a real doctor in that thing,” I say, gesturing, only to have my hand tube things get really angry with me. Ouchagain. Fuck, this hospital stuff is for the birds.
