She nodded.
“The EEG came back and it’s normal.”
“Great news,” Ashton said.
“You may experience PTSD symptoms. Have you heard of post-traumatic stress?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Take it easy for a week, longer if you need it. You’ve been through a lot, so listen to your body. Talk to your healthcare professional if you experience any night terrors or trouble sleeping. Any kind of anxiety that you would consider unusual or excessive. Unfortunately, PTSD affects people in many different ways.”
She nodded.
“And that goes for you, too,” he said to Ashton. “Talk about what you’re feeling. Help each other through this.”
“Absolutely,” he replied.
“You’re young, healthy and I expect you’ll make a full recovery. Unless you feel the need to be admitted, I’m going to discharge you.”
“Sounds good,” she whispered.
“No driving for at least a week. Your chest and ribcage endured intense pressure from your husband’s CPR. Be patient with recovery. Rest your voice. Ease back into your exercise routine. Are we good with that?”
“Yes.”
“What questions do you have for me?”
“None.”
“Sir, any questions?” the doctor asked.
“No. Thanks for everything,” Ashton replied, shaking his hand. “I’ll make sure Carly takes things slowly.”
“Take your time getting dressed. Everything I mentioned will be on your discharge papers. Good luck to you both.” With a smile, the physician left.
“He thinks we’re married,” Carly whispered.
“I wonder who gave him that idea,” Ash said with a smile.
An hour later, the nurse came by with discharge papers. After Ashton helped Carly dress, they walked slowly out of the hospital.
“Babe, would you feel more comfortable heading to your house or mine?” he asked once he’d tucked her into his car.
“I don’t care as long as I’m in your arms.”
Tired and sore, she said nothing on the way to the marina. The simple act of holding his hand brought her tremendous joy. That evening, Carly had a restless night’s sleep. Her nightmares woke her and her throat hurt, but she felt safe and loved in Ashton’s strong embrace. She awoke alone and feeling anxious. It was after ten in the morning.
Moving with care, she dressed and padded out. She found Ashton with Warren and Sinclair on the ship’s back deck.
“There she is,” Ashton said.
Carly sat beside him. “Hi, guys.” Her voice was gravelly, her throat parched. She sipped his orange juice and winced.
“We brought your car back,” Warren said.
“Thank you.” She picked up her keys and stood.
“Whoa, where are you going?” Ashton asked.
