“I’ve got your release papers, Ms. Graham,” the nurse says, coming in my room.

I’m sitting in my hospital bed. Dressed in the same clothes I was wearing when they brought me in. It feels good to finally be out of that hospital gown. I’ve been in here for two days. I’m feeling better. I wish they had let me go home yesterday. I’m lucky, I know. I’m okay and the baby is good. But, at the same time, I’ve been off work for a week now. I can’t afford that. Hopefully, my medical card will pay my bills, but everything else? That’s going to take money.

My hand goes to my stomach to rub Maggie as best as I can. There’s a flutter of movement and I smile. She can feel me. I pray she understands that I love her and I’m sorry. My fever broke the day they brought me in, but I was severely dehydrated and had a major ear infection. The doctor gave me medicine, I’m not happy about taking it, but he promised that it was safer for the baby than for me to continue being sick. I was worried because my fever had spiked. I’m not sure how high it got, but I know that can be very dangerous for a baby. So far, all the tests and ultrasounds reveal that Maggie is doing great. However, I should start going to the doctor more often now. That part’s not going to be fun. I wish I could come here to the doctor, but there’s no way my little car would make the two-hour round trip. There are days that just driving into Whitley to go to the diner is more than it can handle. I’m going to have to suck it up, choke on my pride, and go to the local clinic.

“Do you have a ride home?” she asks, looking around the room, and bringing my thoughts to a stop.

I give her a half smile. She can look all she wants, but there’s no one here. If a nurse hadn’t have looked at my records to discover the man that was with me when they brought me in, I never would have known. When she first read me the name Connor Michael Jameson, I had no idea who that was. It took forever for me to connect the name Michael to someone in my life…like my asshole neighbor. It shocked me. I’m grateful, as much as I don’t want to be. I really thought if he was given the choice he would have left me to die.

“I’m afraid not. I was planning on grabbing a taxi,” I half-lie to the nurse. I can’t afford a taxi home.

Liese Haley, said she would come and get me and she will. She offered to be here early today, but I felt guilty about making her miss her shift. She lives from check to check much like I do. Charlie would have done it, but she’s out of town today. Pastor Sturgill is out of town, so that makes my options limited.

I told her I’d find a McDonalds or something and crash till she got in town. It was the simplest solution. I’ll grab a taxi to McDonalds and text Liese and tell her where I am. I have just enough minutes left on my crappy pre-paid cellphone to do that.

“We normally can’t release you unless you have a ride home,” the nurse says, worry lines appearing and crinkling in the center of her forehead, showing obvious concern.

“I’m afraid I don’t really have anyone. It’s just me and Maggie,” I tell her, rubbing my stomach. “We’ll be fine. I technically have a ride.”

“I’m not sure that’s what the hospital guidelines mean,” she says, shaking her head. She looks at me and she’s about my age. Her name tag says Jana Kick. She’s a beautiful woman with mocha skin, dark hair with almost purple highlights and the kind of body men are drawn to. She has a professional job, one that ensures she will always be able to take care of herself and her children.

The last thing she would probably understand is the mess I’ve made of my life. The bad decisions, the pain, the hurt…all of it. I pray she’ll never know it, because I wish I didn’t. I’ve lived through it, and I wouldn’t want other people to do the same. Still, I don’t want to risk that she won’t let me go home. I need out of here. I need to get back to work. I need to get more baked goods out. I was just starting to get my head above water, and I can’t lose that now. My hand pats my stomach again on reflex. Especially now.

I put my hand on her arm to get her attention. Her soft eyes look at me, and I let my guard down enough so she can see me pleading, and how desperately I need her to agree.

“I’ll be fine. I promise.” Jana stares at me for a minute and my breath lodges in my chest while I wait to see if she will agree. Then she gives me a tight smile.

“A ride is a ride, right?” she says, and I take a deep breath in relief. She goes over the rules and the follow-up appointment they’ve made with the local clinic. I’m dreading that, but it definitely needs to be done. She hands me a bunch of papers along with a few prescriptions, and just like that, I’m free.

I always thought hospital policy was wheeling you out in a wheel chair, but I’m not offered one. She walks me down to the elevator. Then we’re at the front doors, before she’s telling me bye. I’m sure she’s skirting one or two rules for me. Maybe more. I’m more excited that I won’t have to hire a taxi. I have no idea how much it would have cost me to take a taxi to the nearest McDonalds, but any amount right now is more than I can afford.

I step out into the cold air, wishing I had a coat to wear. I’m waiting for a truck to go by so I can cross to the walkway. Instead, the big gray truck pulls up and parks in front of me. It’s thrown into park so hard, it jerks causing it to rock on its wheels. I sigh, as I hear the driver getting out. I mean, it’s kind of rude, but it is the pick-up and drop-off lane, so not unexpected. Still, the driver had to see me standing here. Just another reason people are annoying.

I turn to walk around the truck, dismissing it and the driver. I need to get inside somewhere before I get sick again. I can’t afford to, and it wouldn’t be good for the baby. I’ve only taken a few steps when I feel a hand grab my arm. I cry out, looking at my shoulder and seeing a large, tattooed hand wrapped around my upper arm. Fear instantly hits me. My head goes back to see who it is. For a moment, I’m scared to death it’s him. Then my eyes focus on Michael. The fear dies down, even in the face of his anger.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. He pinches the bridge of his nose and for a second I think he might roll his eyes at me. It’s hard to tell he has so much hair, and when he leans his head down it covers his face like a shroud.

“Let’s go,” he says, not really answering.

I’m in his truck—I didn’t even know he had a truck, and he has me buckled in before I know what is happening. He closes my door after testing the belt to make sure it’s secure. Then he gets in on his side, starts up the vehicle, and we’re merging into the traffic on the main road all before I think I can even blink. He also does all of this without one word. Not a grunt, a groan, or even a huff of breath does he offer. But then I don’t guess he needs to, because in a way he answered my question. He’s here for me.

Crap.