“She’s been moving more since we got to the room,” the nurse said while she finished rebandaging Mags’ arm.
“She would probably like to hear your voice,” the nurse who brought him here suggested.
He curled his fingers around Mags’ free hand and slowly leaned forward to kiss her knuckles and then her lips.
“I love you, Mags. Wake up now, though. You’re scaring me, damn it. The Mags I know always has something to say. Yourmom and dad are almost here. Well, Josephine, MacGregor, Cat, and Barr as well, but you probably knew that. Both of our families turn out when there’s something to celebrate, mourn, or when someone’s been hurt. You’ve been hurt, in case you forgot, while you’ve been napping.”
He kissed her lips again. “Come on, baby, talk to me. If you don’t wake up soon, I’ll redesign our townhouse by myself. I’ll make it a total bro pad, no embroidery anywhere.”
One nurse left, leaving him with the one who’d come to get him. She asked, “How long have you two been engaged?”
“It feels like our whole lives. It’s only ever been her for me.” The nurse sighed and said something about romance, but his attention was solely on his girl.
Her eyes fluttered.
“Oh, God, Mags. Come on, baby. Open those eyes for me.” He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “If you don’t open your eyes, I swear I’ll let Daniel sleep by you tonight, and you know how he farts when he’s nervous.”
“Don’t you dare,” Mags choked out.
“She spoke,” he practically yelled. “She said words!”
“Yes, Mr. O’Faolain. I heard her.” the nurse said as she shone a light in Mags’ eyes since they were wide open. “Welcome back, Miss Morrow. You have a lot of people who will be excited to see you.”
Jonathan's knees were shaking; his relief was so intense. “Christ, Mags. You scared me.”
Mags met his eyes and reached up to cup his face. “You scared me too. Daniel’s farts. Really?”
fifty-one
HANNAH
You tookaway our only advantage.
You knew being crazy was the only way.
Pretending ignorance.
No memory of past deeds. Whatsoever!
And certainly, no fucking bragging.
You idiot.
You, absolute filthy, rotting fool.
You’ve screwed us all.
Hannah took every word, every slight against her character and intelligence, and swallowed it down. She had miscalculated. Played her cards too early.
She was lying in a small hospital cell strapped to a narrow bed as shivers wracked her weak body. The doctor had informed her that she would experience a range of fentanyl withdrawal symptoms like muscle pain, vomiting, panic, nausea, and, her favorite, sweating.
She tried to tell them that she’d never taken drugs, but of course, she’d heard the voices snickering in amusement at her predicament.
According to one of the voices, she’d started using the drug the moment she’d gotten out of the hospital.
The doctor said she would be through the worst of it in a few days, and then she’d be able to stand trial for attempted murder of Margaret Morrow.
Attempted.
