“I have rounds to do, but I’ll be back to check on you later. Is there anything you need before I go?”
“A drink? My throat’s killing me.”
“Side effect of having a tube down it, I’m afraid.” He walks over to the table at the end of my bed and pours me a cup full of water before handing it to me.
“Thanks.”
“No, thank you. It’s been a tough week. Patients dying left and right. I thought I was losing my touch.”
“Again, your bedside manner sucks. Who says that to someone?” I grumble, holding out the now-empty cup for him to refill.
“You, Miss Anders, are a breath of fresh air.”
“I’m something alright.”
He fills my cup once more before placing the jug back down and heading to the door. “You might not feel like it once the meds wear off, but you were incredibly lucky.”
“Yeah, that’s me—lucky.” I snort. If he fucking knew what my life has been like, he’d rethink that statement. Instead, he tips his imaginary cap at me as he opens the door.
“Doc?”
He turns to look at me over his shoulder.
“I don’t want any visitors.”
He looks at me for a second before his gaze turns to where I’m assuming the waiting room is. “You sure? There’s a?—”
“I’m sure. Some people just get off on seeing how the mighty have fallen, and I’m tired of being the punchline of everyone’s joke.”
He hesitates before I point to my head. “You said no stress in case my brain falls out, right?”
“Something like that. But yes, you’re right. No stress. I’ll pass along the message that you want no visitors.”
“Thank you.”
“For what it’s worth, if someone’s determined enough, they’ll find a way in.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.” And with the look he’s giving me, we both know I’m talking about more than my hospital room.
Chapter Two
KRUGER
I restmy head in my hands, ignoring the ache in my back from the stupid metal chairs. When someone clears their throat, I look up and find the doctor who told me last week that Del didn’t want any visitors.
“She hasn’t changed her mind about visitors, and I honestly don’t think she will. I meet a lot of people in my line of work, but I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite so stubborn as Miss Anders.”
I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. He’s not wrong. I feel his eyes on my scars, but there is no fear or wariness, only mild curiosity.
“Bear.”
“Excuse me?”
“The scars. They’re from a bear.”
“Sounds like you were lucky?—”
“Yeah, that’s me—lucky.”
