Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Two lines appeared between my sister’s eyebrows. “What?”
“The chart.” I waved my hand toward the end of the bed. “If he signed for the surgery, it must be in there.”
“Good idea!” She bolted out of her chair, abandoning her snacks on the bedside table. “You’d think you were the one studying journalism.”
Studying. Oh shit, I was going to have to get back to Syracuse, but the idea of getting on a plane was . . . there was just no freaking way. I’d have to be not only sedated, but fully unconscious with an escort, and even then I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to walk down the jet bridge anyway. “How am I going to get back to school?” The rhetorical question was a whisper.
Serena lowered the side rail of my bed and then sat on the edge, depressing the mattress as she handed me the chart. “We’ll figure it out. Just because they’re going to release you tomorrow doesn’t mean you have to go back to New York, Iz. There’s no rush. I’m sure Mom and Dad will understand if you decide to take some time off. And if you do want to go back, then I’ll just blow off some classes and we’ll drive.” She shrugged. “No biggie. Or I’m sure Mom and Dad will be here in a few days, and they can drive you home to Colorado if that’s what you want.”
“Thank you.” I took the chart and set it on my lap. “I just don’t know how to make myself get on a plane.”
Did he? When he’d left yesterday with the soldiers, had they immediately put him on the next flight to Fort Benning? Sure, I was scared of flying, but at least yesterday hadn’t been my only experience in the air.
“Then we’ll work through it,” she said as the phone next to my bed rang, startling us both.
I leaned but couldn’t quite reach, and the stitches in my side protested in the loudest way possible. Or maybe it was the broken ribs, or the spleen. Who knew? My entire body was pretty damn angry with me.
Serena rushed around the side of the bed and answered the phone, pushing her long hair out of the way. Even after twenty-four hours in the hospital, she still managed to look . . . perfect. If I hadn’t loved her so much, I would’ve loathed her out of sheer jealousy.
“Hello?” she answered, and a muffled voice replied. Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, thank God. I sent a message through the cruise lines, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take to get to you. When are you coming home?” Mom and Dad, she mouthed, listening to whatever they were saying. “She’s okay. They’re releasing her tomorrow. Ruptured spleen repaired, concussion, broken ribs, and bumps and bruises, but she’s past the worst of it. She’s right here if you want to—” Her brow furrowed.
I held out my empty hand.
“Are you serious?” Her face tensed. “Well, you can tell her that yourself.” She closed her eyes and swallowed, then handed me the phone.
Dread twisted my already nauseated stomach. “Hello?”
“Isa!” Dad answered. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry you’ve been through this.”
My eyes burned, but I swallowed back the tears. The same thing had happened when I’d found Serena next to my bed. It was like my emotions were simply too big for my body. “I’m okay,” I forced out.
“That’s what Serena says,” Mom added, and I could picture them sharing the handset, leaned in so they could both be a part of the conversation. “I’m so glad she’s there to take care of you for the next couple of days.”
“You’ll be back by then?” I held the phone between my right shoulder and ear and started flipping through my chart.
“Well.” Mom sighed. “Honey, you know how long we’ve waited to take this trip, so if you’re not in any life-or-limb danger, there’s not really a reason for us to come back, is there?”
I blinked, my hands going completely still.
Serena took her place on the side of my bed, watching me with an assessing gaze that I couldn’t bring myself to meet.
“I mean, we’ll see you at Christmas. That’s only four weeks away, and I’m sure you don’t want to miss out on any classes, which is all that us coming home would accomplish, really,” Mom continued.
“You’re not coming home?” I had to say it, had to make sure that’s what I’d actually heard them say. My parents were masters at words and every way they could be interpreted.
Serena reached for my hand and squeezed.
“If they’re releasing you tomorrow, then you must be on the mend,” Dad said, his tone changing to the matter-of-fact one he used at the office. “And I know you’ve been through a shock, Isa, but this will really be an opportunity for you to rise above the challenge and show your mettle.”