I was all for a mastery of wit and the appropriate verbal lashing when the time called for it, but something told me that this man wasn’t a stranger to doing so whenever he wanted and cared little for social norms or tact.
Why bother when he was typically the most powerful one in the room?
He lifted away from the counter, nodding his head at me while spinning on his heel. “You’ve had enough exercise for the day. Let’s get you back to your room.”
Giving Beth a cursory smile, I shuffled after him.
His plain clothes were alien compared to the scrubs I’d met him in. They fit him well, gave his tall frame a well and defined shape that I was sure was also helped by his hours spent at the gym or whatever it was that he kept up to keep himself fit.
He had long strides that were hard to keep up with, my own body growing increasingly more sore the farther I pushed it to move.
Foolish on my part, to think standing for longer than an hour would be good for me. My desperation to get out of here ran the risk of putting me into stupid predicaments like this one where I’d spent too much time arguing with my damn surgeon and tired myself out. Ultimately, pushing my discharge date back if I didn’t get it together and be more careful.
He stopped at the threshold of my door, attention locking onto me again while I struggled to catch up. It’d be a miracle if I didn’t sweat through my bandages, forcing me into needing an early re-dressing when I’d just gotten the latest one done this morning.
When I reached him, he surprised me by cupping a hand under one of my biceps to help me through the doorway. The burden of my own weight was lifted just long enough to get meback over to the bed, a slow and steady pace that kept up with my shuffling feet and didn’t force me to go faster than I realistically could.
“Careful,” he murmured, grabbing my other arm once it was free from holding onto my IV, and slowly lowered me back down onto the bed.
A sigh of relief left me the second I was horizontal.
Yeah, I was definitely spending the rest of the day in bed.
He bent over me, latching the heart monitor onto my finger and eyeing the screen beside my bed for a long moment while it read my pulse. A short and satisfied nod was given and then the clamp was slipped off, replaced by some patch slapped against my chest.
Leaning back, he readjusted the saline bag and checked the tap, following the line until he got a hold of my arm and twisted it into its proper position, a finger running over the tape keeping the butterfly needle buried under my skin.
“Thought you said this was your day off.”
He didn’t look up when he answered. “It is. Unfortunately, difficult patients make those days close to impossible to enjoy.”
“Oh, come on.” I wasn’tthatannoying to deal with. In fact, I bet I was his easiest patient.
“You think I’m kidding,” he replied.
“I think you're the one being dramatic now.”
“So says the one bothering my staff looking for his lost item.”
My mouth snapped closed, the wordsit was expensiveburning on the tip of my tongue. Call me a sentimentalist or poor. Whatever.
What was it to anyone that I wanted my things back?
He cupped a hand behind my neck, pulling me forward just enough to re-fluff my pillow but not too far that it re-aggravated my alreadyveryangry incisions.
Fuckthat hurt.
While being aware that I’d been cut wide open and sewn back up, knowing it andfeelingit were two vastly different things. I’d had the greatest gift known to mankind pumping through my veins only twelve hours prior that had lulled me into a false sense of confidence.
Now, I was paying for it.
The stone cold truth giving me a nice little dose of humility.
My wince must’ve been too obvious to ignore, because soon, he was letting go of me to lean over to tap the page button next to my head. “This is why we don’t overdo it three days post-op.”
“I’m not in the mood for a lecture.” What I really wanted was to curl up and melt into the bed.
“Then listen to me when I say things the first time around.”
