No sooner has Cleo left than Becky stomps back to my bedside, clearly pissed.
“Stop terrorizing my staff.”
“Terrorizing . . . a minute ago I was ogling. You’re giving me whiplash, Becky.”
“And you’re giving me a headache. You better not be lying about having housing.”
“I’m not.” I grab my phone, dismissing the email notification from Carl with paperwork and pulling up the text from Anna, from Vireo Capital, the company listing the loft. “See.”
I hold it up for her to see.
“I’ll know today whether I’ve got the place for the next two months.”
She barely glances my way. “I’m not going to miss you, Emmett Slate. But I hope everything works out the way you want it to.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”
Her laughter fills the room. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I don’t plan to . . . So . . . tomorrow?” I’m too nervous to finish that question, but Becky knows.
“No promises, but that’s what it sounds like.”
When Becky leaves, I snag my phone and shoot off a text to my grandmother’s nurse, checking in.
Her response is quick, telling me they’re having a good day. It’s all I can really ask for and it makes me feel slightly better about being away for longer than I planned.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
EMMETT
The confined-space training we have to repeat every year has nothing on the claustrophobia this hospital gives me.
Being discharged doesn’t stop the walls from closing in on me as Becky pushes me through the halls. I’d bet my last dollar she’s going slow just to piss me off one last time.
Freedom, or a semblance of it, is just out of reach.
My application to rent the loft was approved, and Care Management set up a ride.
As much as I hate it, it’s making the whole process more manageable.
I’m almost out of here.
Almost.
I glance up and down the corridors, searching for the one thing that feels off.
Aspen isn’t here to see me off.
It’s silly.
We already said goodbye. She’s enjoying her well-deserved day off. Neither of those facts keep me from wanting one last glimpse of her before I leave, though.
I was calmer with her around, and I’m not ready to lose that, especially with the uncertainty of recovery looming.
Eight weeks of downtime is going to be hell.
