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“I don’t know why you can’t be my nurse.”

She sighed, bringing the table closer. “Because you would want all my attention.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“I’d be good.”

She snorted as she pushed a plate my way. “Dinner. Baked chicken, rice. Applesauce.”

I surveyed the simple meal. If Mom made it, I knew it would be tasty. Far better than the pale piece of “turkey” that had shown up earlier with the mashed potatoes. All slightly overcooked, mushy, and awful. A plate of white, bland, tasteless food.

Still, I wasn’t overly hungry, but if it made Maddy happy, I would eat.

“I can walk tomorrow,” I told her, taking the bite she offered.

“I heard.”

“If it had been laparoscopic, this would have been a faster recovery,” I groused.

“They couldn’t.”

“Yeah, Mark explained it all,” I replied, chewing another bite.

“You’re lucky you were in the hospital when this happened,” she stated quietly.

I covered her hand with mine. “I know.”

“I was terrified.”

“I’m sorry. But I’m going to be fine, Maddy. I’ll be a better patient. I promise.”

She laughed. “Let’s not make promises we can’t keep.”

I flashed her a smile. “I’ll try. How’s that?”

“Better. Now, eat.”

“Did Mom send you food?”

“Yes.”

“Then eat with me. You have time, right?”

“Yes.”

I took the fork from her hand. “Good.”

Walking was far too overrated, I decided the next day as I shuffled around my room. So was standing, moving, or anything else physical.

Being a slug in bed was a far better idea. Less painful.

Except I hated being a patient.

So I kept shuffling.

Maddy came to see me after her shift. I was dozing, anxious since I hadn’t seen her all day, although Mom had told me she’d been there while I was being tortured down the hall. Or having tests, as the medical people described it.

I felt fingers running through my hair, and I opened my eyes, meeting her gentle gaze. I stopped her hand, bringing it to my mouth and kissing the palm, then holding it over my heart. “Hi,” I murmured.