Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
The monitors beeped steadily, a reassuring rhythm I’d come to rely on. The surgeon had taken my kidney five days ago, and technically I’d been discharged two days back, but there wasn’t a chance in hell I was leaving. Lavender had reluctantly returned to the hotel for a proper shower and change of clothes, promising to be back by evening. That left me on watch duty. Exactly where I wanted to be.
Brynn’s eyelids fluttered, then opened. She blinked several times, orienting herself, before her gaze landed on me.
“Water?” I asked, already reaching for the plastic cup on her tray.
She nodded, wincing as she tried to sit up. I pressed the button to raise the head of her bed, then held the straw to her lips. She took several small sips before pulling back. She’d been up and moving around and hoped to go home either today or tomorrow. The disgruntled way she refused help sometimes made me smile. The independence was fierce with this one.
“You look like shit,” she muttered, her voice raspy from sleep.
I snorted. “Thanks. Good to see you, too.”
There was something different in her tone, less of the sharp hostility that had marked our early interactions. Maybe it was the drugs. I hoped that, by fighting to give her what she needed, maybe she’d finally started to believe in me. Either way, I’d take it.
“Mom coming back soon?” she asked, picking at the edge of her blanket.
“I told her this afternoon, the reality is she’ll likely be here before ten. Whenever she gets here, Ada’s making her eat some actual food before she heads over.” I reached into my backpack at my feet. “Got something to pass the time.”
I pulled out a battered paperback, its spine cracked and pages yellowed with age. The cover showed a dragon coiled around a mountain fortress, the once-vibrant colors faded from years of handling.
Brynn eyed it skeptically. “What’s that supposed to be?”
“Book I read when I was about your age,” I said, flipping it open to the dog-eared first page. “Thought maybe you’d like it.”
“Fantasy?” She wrinkled her nose. “Seriously?”
“Listen to a chapter before you judge. If you hate it, I’ll find something else.” I cleared my throat and began reading, my gravelly voice filling the small room.
I’d always been a big reader. The words came easy, and I found myself falling into the familiar rhythm of the story. I snuck glances at Brynn between paragraphs. She maintained an expression of bored tolerance, but her eyes remained fixed on me, alert and following every word.
Three chapters in, a nurse came in with Brynn’s lunchtime meds. I paused reading, marking my place with my finger.
“Don’t stop on my account,” the nurse said cheerfully, checking Brynn’s IV lines. “I love hearing stories. Makes me almost want to stay and listen.”
“It’s stupid,” Brynn muttered, but there wasn’t any real conviction behind it.
“Sure it is,” I agreed, exchanging a knowing look with the nurse as she handed Brynn her pills.
After the nurse left, Brynn took one look at the sad tray of hospital food -- some kind of beige mush masquerading as chicken casserole -- and pushed it away with a grimace.
“Got you covered,” I said, reaching into my backpack again and pulling out a paper bag. Inside was a container of Ada’s homemade chicken soup, still warm in its thermos, and a slice of chocolate cake wrapped carefully in wax paper.
Brynn’s eyes widened. “How’d you smuggle that in?”
“Nurse Martinez has a weakness for Knuckles’ espresso beans. We worked out a deal.” I transferred the soup to a bowl and handed it to her with a plastic spoon. “Besides. Ada was careful with what she put in it and followed the dietary guidelines. She said she needed to make sure we could feed you when you got home anyway.”
She took it without comment, but the speed with which she dug in told me everything I needed to know about how hungry she actually was.
And so our day went. I read more chapters, pausing when Brynn needed her meds or when her eyes grew heavy. Around mid-morning, the day nurse came in for vitals check, her tablet tucked under her arm.
“So, how’s Miss Brynn doing today?” she asked, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around Brynn’s arm.
“I’d feel better if people would stop asking me how I’m doing every five minutes,” Brynn grumbled.
The nurse just smiled, used to Brynn’s prickly responses by now. She checked the various monitors, made notes, and then looked at me. “Bloodwork from this morning came back looking good. Dr. Patel is very pleased with her progress.”
I tried to keep my face neutral, but I felt my shoulders drop several inches from where they’d been permanently lodged around my ears.
“That’s good,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
“That’s excellent,” the nurse corrected, giving me a knowing smile. “Keep doing whatever you’re doing. It seems to be working.”