As kids, Leah and Tanner hated each other. To this day, they still do. Tanner Cole is tall, dark, tattooed, and insanely attractive, though his ugly heart drowns all of this out to Leah. At eighteen years old, all Leah wants is to go off to college...
I press the buzzer for a nurse, and two minutes later, Olive walks into my room, eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiles at me. I'm glad to see a friendly face, but I feel for her as she must be working a double shift.
"How are you feeling this morning, dear?" she asks cheerily as she picks the chart up at the end of my bed to view.
I smile back and stretch my limbs carefully. "A lot better than yesterday, thanks."
"Good, good. I just spoke to Dr. Clark, who is in a much brighter mood after finally having some sleep, and he said that if your CT scan that you're having later comes out fine, then you're free to go home."
"Really?! That's amazing." Both for Dr. Clark's improved mood and about the news that I may get to be discharged.
She chuckles. "I'm glad you're excited about it. What is it you need help with in the meantime?"
"I need to talk to someone, but he's in the waiting room."
"Ah. It wouldn't happen to be that tall, brooding young man who keeps accosting me and the other nurses, would it?" She winks as she scribbles something on the chart and places it back in its holder.
I sigh even though I can't help but feel slightly happy about it. "Sounds like the one."
Her lips turn upward, and she comes over to the bed. "Well, before you see him, you should get cleaned up first. I don't know what that boy has done wrong, but whatever it is, you need to look your best when you let him have it."
I tilt my head to the side. "How do you know he's done something wrong?"
"I may be old, but I'm not delusional," she laughs.
"You could feel the tension rolling off of your parents that first day they arrived. Thankfully, things improved over the next few days between them."
My brow pulls together. "Oh. My parents didn't tell me about that."
"I wouldn't worry about it, dear. It's water under the bridge," Olive says reassuringly. "Now let's get you out of this bed."
She gets to work removing my IV and the other contraptions attached to my body so that I can have a proper shower instead of a sponge bath.
When I'm free from all the wires, I carefully swing my legs over the bed and ease into the wheelchair with Olive's support. She then pushes me down the sterile hallways, passing other doctors, nurses, and patients along the way.
When we arrive in the bathroom, I catch sight of myself in the floor-length mirror and cringe. My hair looks like a birds nest, and my face looks oily as hell. The pale-green bruises dotted on my arms and the white cast around my left leg doesn't help with my appearance.
I'm suddenly grateful for Olive's suggesting this shower, because there's no way I can face Tanner looking like this.
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