Her blue eyes stare into mine. “What happened?”
“You got hit by a car.”
She tries to nod and winces in pain.
“Just lie still.” I grab the chair and pull it up next to her.
“Do you remember the accident?”
“No.” She looks at me, worried.
I stroke her cheek. “Don’t worry. That’s normal. It’ll come to you later.”
“Did I break my bones? My entire body hurts.”
“No. You got lucky. But you have a concussion and a lot of bruises.”
“Can I go home? I want to go home.”
“Not yet. But as soon as I can get you out of here, I will.”
24
Xander
It’slate at night when Charlotte gets discharged. She only gets released because I sign a waiver saying that I’ll look after her and take her as a patient in my care.
They want to keep her for observation, but I can do that, and she keeps saying she wants to go home.
She hasn’t brought up Billie, or Club D, or the coffee shop. I don’t know what the last thing is she remembers, but I don’t want to ask her in the hospital. At some point, it will come back to her, if it hasn’t already, and we will have to talk, but now is not the time. Plus, she’s on a lot of pain medicine.
Chase and Jamison returned to the airport. Quinn and Vivian took them after they saw Charlotte. It was a quick visit because Charlotte is in a lot of pain and seems to want only me by her side.
Noah and Piper saw her, too, and left a few hours ago, but Noah sent his driver back to the hospital to take us to Charlotte’s.
Piper took my hotel key. She packed a bag for me and dropped it off at Charlotte’s. I already told Dr. Sear not to expect me for at least a week, so I don’t have any reason to have to leave her side.
When we get to Charlotte’s, it’s after midnight. I carry her upstairs because she’s weak and dizzy from her concussion. She nuzzles into my neck and murmurs, “You always smell good.”
I smile and kiss her head as the elevator doors open. When I get into her apartment, I take her right to her bedroom, give her a glass of water and her pain pills, then go into her closet and find a pair of pajamas for her.
“I need a shower,” she whispers.
“Tomorrow. Just rest tonight.”
“I feel gross. I’m going to take one.” She tries to sit up and throws her hands to her head. “Ouch.”
“Whoa. You need to move slow.”
She sits for a minute then stands and ambles into the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“Shower,” she mumbles.
I follow her into the bathroom, making sure she doesn’t fall. I point to her vanity bench. “Okay. Sit down, and I’ll get the shower ready.”
She lowers herself carefully and winces. “Why does my ass hurt so bad?”
