Page 121 of Danger

Over my mom’s shoulder, I watch him. He moves to the door. Opens it wider so everyone can crowd in.

Then he steps into the hallway. The door swings halfway closed behind him.

Through the narrow gap, I see him lean back against the wall. His head tips up. His eyes close. And his chest rises—deep, shaking, like he can finally breathe.

Like he’s been holding it for days. Like he thought I was gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

winnie

There’san art to staying in a hospital. You get good at pretending to nap in midafternoon light, at watching the same reruns on the four channels they offer, at counting every squeak of rubber-soled shoes as they go by. At being woken up by stabs and pokes when you’re finally able to shut your eyes.

Gina, the nurse I like best, is humming something under her breath as she wheels in the last drip bag. I watch her in the reflection of the window. The sky is morning pale, and the parking lot below shines slick with last night’s rain. I don’t want to say I’ll miss it, because I won’t.

“You excited to finally be going home?” she asks in that way nurses have of making it sound like a secret.

I smile, which takes less effort than it did a week ago. “More than you know. You all took great care of me. But I’m about ready to chew my way out of this room.”

She snickers. “That’s the spirit. If you ever get tired of baking, you could make a killing as a patient. Real good at following orders. Or pretending to, anyway.”

I glance at the window counter, which has two balloon bouquets, a mountain of chocolate, and enough flowers to getme through life. The roses, though. There are over a hundred roses in various stages of red, all of them put together so beautifully. The roses are all from Danger.

The nurse sees me looking. “I’m surprised the fire department hasn’t shut us down yet,” she says, waving her clipboard at the flowers. “He stirred up a lot around here. That man, he remodeled our lobby, you know that?”

“Remodeled?”

She leans in. “Heared they had to bring in a whole new set of waiting room chairs. Never seen a man with that kind of… presence.” She draws out the word and laughs.

I stare at the roses.

“He just feels bad. We fought right before the accident. That’s probably why he’s been feeling so… guilty.”

She checks the drip and, without looking at me, says, “Honey, he’s been here every morning when I start my shift. Every night when I leave. And I work twelve-hour shifts. That man washed your hair every day, you know that? Did it himself, with the little blue tub. Took him an hour. If that ain’t love, I don’t know what is.”

My face goes hot. I sink back against the pillow, try to play it cool. “Still think it’s his guilty conscience. And he’s stubborn.”

She barks a laugh, straightens the bedsheet. “If you haven’t looked out your window yet this morning, maybe take a peek. I have a feeling that shiny new car with the bow on it isn’t for me.”

What?

I twist the sheet in my fist and crane my neck to the parking lot. There, in a far corner, is a white SUV, gleaming like it was just dropped off from the dealership. A red bow, the kind they use for Christmas commercials, sits on top.

“He bought me a car?” I say, too loud.

The nurse grins and taps the chart. “Heard him on the phone with the dealership. He said it had to be the safest car they hadon the lot. Kept asking about airbags. Even argued with the guy about the side-impact rating.” She sighs, a little dreamy. “Told you. Never seen a man go to pieces like that over a woman. And I’ve seen plenty.”

A weird ache blossoms in my chest. I want to be angry, to hold onto my grudge. It’s easier to be angry when there’s nothing in the parking lot, when the person in question hasn’t been here for me every waking minute.

I pick at my thumbnail, stubborn. “It looks very nice, but I’m still mad at him.”

The nurse looks at me with a raised brow. “You ever think maybe you’re mad because you love him back? I know I don’t get mad at anyone I don’t care about.”

I giggle. “That’s not it.”

She shrugs. “Suit yourself. If it was me, I’d forgive him. Seems like he’s been punishing himself plenty. And with a man who looks like that… doesn’t hurt, right?”

I smirk and let myself relax into the moment. “He is pretty, huh?”