Page 122 of Danger
“Oh, honey.” She leans on the bed rail, confiding. “Every nurse on this floor thinks so. Even the ones who like women.”
We both laugh.
“And for what it’s worth, you had quite the fan club in here. You are loved, my dear.”
“Fan club?”
“Oh yes. I’ve met all of the Stetson and Hawthorne family members. And two of your friends? One blonde, one brunette. The blonde one—sweet as pie but bossy. She brought in those three different blankets over there because ‘hospital beige is emotionally aggressive.’ And the brunette…” She grins. “She sang to you every time she was in.”
My family. The Stetsons. Sawyer. Honey.
They were all here for me.
It makes the room feel smaller somehow. Fuller. Like the walls are holding so many memories I was here for but just don’t remember.
The door swings open followed by heavy boot steps.
Danger is carrying two coffees, his hair a wet mess.
“Morning,” he says, in that growl that makes the nurse blush.
I squint at him. Tilt my head. “Sorry… do I know you?”
He stops mid-step. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” I continue sweetly, scanning him head to toe. “Are you with maintenance? Because my air conditioner is making a weird noise.”
His face drains, goes pale.
The nurse loses it. “Stop torturing that man, sugar.”
Danger huffs, annoyed but too tired to hide how relieved he is. “Funny,” he says, then hands me the coffee. “Got you the sweet shit. Four extra creams.”
I take it and let my fingers rest against his for a second. “Thank you.”
He runs a hand over his jaw, looking everywhere but at me. “You ready to get outta here?”
I sip the coffee, savor the sugar. “Yes, but you didn’t tell me you did some remodeling downstairs.”
Danger shrugs, doesn’t look sorry. “They needed new furniture anyway. I left a check.”
The nurse is writing something down, but her eyes dart between us as she quietly giggles. Then she gives a little bow. “She’s all yours. If you end up back here again, just know we charge double the next time.”
He nods, solemn, like he doesn’t plan on coming back.
She winks at me and says, “You take care now.”
Danger doesn’t move. He just watches, arms crossed, taking up all the oxygen in the room.
He says, “Let’s get you home?”
“Hell yes.”
He comes to me and helps me out of the bed. One hand steadies my elbow while the other wraps around my wrist. His thumb drags along the inside of it, and I wonder if he's checking for my pulse.
It’s still there, somehow.
“You good?” he asks.
