Chapter 11
The words escaped him before he realized it, but he wouldn’t have taken them back anyway.
Dr. Calhoun raised an eyebrow. “Your relation?”
“Friend. No stairs at my place and I can arrange the next few days off to stay with her.” Rob looked over at Stacey, whose face had gone as pale as the sheet she was clutching for dear life. “I can’t let you be stuck here alone.”
“But—”
“The discharge paperwork will have the symptoms you need to watch for. We’ll issue a loaner wheelchair for you to get around with. Do not under any circumstances put weight on that foot until after you’ve seen Orthopedics. Here are the medications you’ll be taking.”
As Dr. Calhoun rattled off Stacey’s instructions, Rob pulled his cell from his pocket, already mentally writing up a to-do list. He’d have Brandi and Felicity split his clients. Was Stacey allergic to dogs? He hoped not. That was the one wrinkle that might drop this plan straight in the crapper.
“. . . reactions that could occur. All right, I’ll call the nurse in here to take out your IV and then you’ll be all set.”
“Thank you,” Stacey said, her voice as thin as hospital soup. The door rasped shut behind Dr. Calhoun, and Rob felt a sudden pang of doubt. He’d charged in, as usual, but maybe that wasn’t the right thing to have done.
“Stacey, if you would rather stay here, I’ll—”
“No, that’s not it.” Stacey’s voice quavered slightly. “You’ve just—I—” Her hands covered her face and her shoulders shook.
Rob’s guts tightened into a knot and he moved to her side instantly. Sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, he gently wrapped his arms around her. “Hey. It’s okay. You’ve had a rough night.”
Her sobs came from somewhere deep inside, and he held her as they rocked through her body. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to stay calm and quiet, to let the emotions she needed to purge move through her.
He’d wanted to hold her again, but not like this.
Gone was her usual snap, her snark, the easy wit she relied on to shield her true feelings, and that, more than anything, made him twist into knots inside. Not because he was attracted to her—he was—or because he felt guilty—he did—but because she did not deserve this.
“Thank you,” she said, when she could speak. She rubbed at her cheeks, and he leaned back to give her some space, keeping one hand in contact with her shoulder. “You’ve just met me, but you’ve done so much for me. I can’t thank you enough.”
“It’s not a big deal. Unless you’re not a dog person.”
A tremulous smile stretched her lips. “I love dogs.”
“Then get ready, because Custard’s a whole lot of hound. She’ll happily curl up next to you while you convalesce.”
Her voice was still quavering, and her cheeks were red and shiny with the dampness of her tears, but her brows had lifted in what he thought was genuine interest.
“She’s a mastiff. Huge paws, slobber, wrinkles, the whole nine yards.”
“Sounds awesome.” Stacey sniffed, then her head fell back against the pillows and she blew out a long breath through her nose. A furrow appeared on her forehead.
“Are you hurting?”
She didn’t open her eyes to answer. “Yeah, I am. The leg’s starting to get some feeling back in it, and when I breathe things are getting more and more sore. I think the meds are wearing off.”
He was up and moving toward the door already. “I’ll get the nurse.”
“You don’t have to . . .”
He didn’t hear if she said anything else because he was on the other side of the door.
Dr. Calhoun stood at the nurses’ station, conversing with the woman who’d taken Stacey’s demographics from him hours before. Rob stood a respectful distance away, so as not to crowd or overhear whatever—or whomever—they were discussing. While he waited, he glanced at the wall behind the U-shaped counter. A large clock proclaimed it to be nearly one in the morning. Damn. Custard was going to be pissed at him.
Dr. Calhoun handed a folder to the nurse and turned Rob’s way. Rob nodded politely, figuring the doctor was on his way to his next patient, but the man stopped beside Rob.
“We’ll be releasing her into your care. Are you sure you’re willing to be responsible for her? It’s important that she come straight back here if she has any worsening symptoms.”
Rob looked straight into Dr. Calhoun’s serious brown eyes. “I’m sure. I’m not about to let her suffer through this alone.”
A long moment passed, but Dr. Calhoun nodded. “All right, then. Marie has her discharge paperwork.”
“Before you go, she’s beginning to get more uncomfortable. Will she be getting any more pain meds before being discharged?”
The doctor frowned. “I don’t want to medicate her too heavily because of the brain trauma. But I’ll leave orders for another half dose of pain relief before she goes.”
“Thank you, sir.” Rob shook Dr. Calhoun’s hand and then watched as he walked away.
When Rob stepped back into Stacey’s room, she was talking on the room’s corded telephone.
“No, honestly, I’m okay. I’m so sorry to be bothering you so late. I wouldn’t even have called you except that I have no idea where my cell phone is and I remembered the presentation to the city council is tomorrow morning. I’m not going to be able to make it, obviously.”
Rob moved to step back into the hallway, intending to give her privacy, but Stacey shook her head and beckoned him in.
“Yeah. Some bumps and bruises, nothing too major.” She paused, listening, and shoved her hair back from her forehead, which was reddened from contact with the air bag. The movement began absentmindedly but cut off halfway with a wince and a pained gasp. “Sorry, just moved a way I shouldn’t have.”
Rob sank into the chair by her bedside and pretended to be interested in his phone. He wasn’t. He was watching her move too slowly, too gingerly to adjust the hair that had been bothering her.
Damn. Just hours ago she’d been doing a hell of a job at the gym. He’d been planning to get her back into bed and explore the attraction between them. It had been a brilliant connection. And now . . . Now...
“They’ll just have to delay it. There’s no one else who can present the project to them like it needs to be presented. A couple of weeks should do it. Please, do you mind passing on the message for me?”
She was right. Not just about her work problem, but about everything. Nothing was over. Not the gym, not the chemistry between them. If, that is, she was still interested.
“Thank you. You’re the best, Hannah. Get back to sleep. I promise I’ll call you after I see the orthopedist tomorrow. Love you too. ’Bye.”
Stacey pressed the red button on the phone and placed it back on the table beside her. “Sorry. I was supposed to do this big presentation tomorrow.”
Rob nodded. “Things might be put off for a little while, but I think you’ll be able to get everything back on track really soon.”
Her smile was thin, strained.
“The nurse will be coming in with some more meds soon. Close your eyes. You’ve got to be tired.”
“You don’t mind?”
How could he? “No. Just rest. I’ll be here.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed. He allowed himself to brush a knuckle over the back of her hand as he looked down at her.
So determined. She’d flirted with him shamelessly. Regret flooded him that he’d missed the opportunity of a dinner with her tonight.
They would make up the lost time over the next forty-eight hours. He didn’t intend to let her out of his sight.
* * *
Things definitely got worse before they got better. She couldn’t sleep, though she tried.
Stacey’s pain level kept rising, like floodwaters in a basement. Steady, unrelenting, almost so gradual that she didn’t realize she was being overtaken until it had almost happened.
Rob definitely kept her as distracted as possible. He told her about Custard, and Custard’s sometimes-boyfriend Max, a mutt who belonged to Silvio from the gym. Stacey laughed at the stories, but she couldn’t keep up her interest long.
“Sorry,” she said when Rob’s concern showed on his face. He was too handsome for that furrow between his brows. “My leg is starting to scream at me.”
“Your breathing is shallow.” He stood by the bedside, gently brushing a stray hair from her forehead. “Too shallow, too fast.”
“I’m remembering what it’s like to run on the treadmill.” Her voice quavered. Damn it. She did not want to cry in front of him again.
He smiled at her lame joke. “I know.” He looked toward the exit. “I’ll go check on your meds.”
“No need,” said the nurse as she moved through the door. “Here they are.”
With quick, deft motions, the nurse scrubbed the IV port with an alcohol pad and popped a syringe on it. The meds hit her vein, cooling her arm from the inside. Within a moment, a fuzzy dulling sensation coated her brain and she relaxed against the bed.
“We’ll let this IV run while I give your discharge instructions. Now, are you the husband?”
Stacey shot a quick glance at the nurse, then back at Rob. Hopefully he wouldn’t be insulted.
“Friend,” Rob corrected gently. “But I’ll be taking care of her for the next few days.”
“All right, then. These are the symptoms you need to watch for. If any of these happen, you need to come back right away.”
As she rattled off the list of symptoms, Stacey listened with half an ear. Mostly, though, she watched Rob. He nodded throughout the speech, asking specific questions, getting clarification on points, and being much more thorough than Stacey herself could have been. Of course, concentrating wasn’t exactly super-easy with her system loaded with pain meds. God, he was handsome. Why was he so eager to help her? He was so out of her league he might as well be a New York Yankee, and she was stuck in T-ball. She wondered if he gave his one-night stands gift baskets like Derek Jeter. Could she expect one after their encounter in the locker room? A giggle escaped her.
“You okay?” the nurse asked, with one eyebrow hiked.
“Fine,” Stacey said, composing herself. “Sorry, was a little distracted.”
The nurse continued. “The paperwork I’m giving you will have all this information on it for reference, as well as the phone number in case you’ve got any questions. Now, here are your prescriptions.” She handed two paper slips to Stacey. “The pain medicine I just gave you should last about four hours, so you should pick this up on your way home. For the next day, take your dose every four hours. After tomorrow you can stretch them as much as you’re comfortable with.”
Rob took the prescriptions that Stacey handed him as the nurse began removing the IV line. Another nurse poked her head in the door.
“Ms. Hough?”
“Yes?”
“A policeman is here about your accident. Do you feel up to talking to him?”
Oh great. More fun on this night that refused to end. Stacey gave a reluctant nod. “I can, if he needs me to.”
“Briefly,” Rob added.
Whoa. Stacey gave him a quick look. Was it her imagination, or did he sound a little protective there? It was probably the drugs. She shouldn’t read into things like that. But, God, did she want to. Having a handsome, strong man stick up for her in this situation would make anyone melt, and she just wasn’t that strong at the moment.
A little, silent prayer escaped her.
Please don’t let me fall in love with him. It would be too easy to imagine that his physical interest meant something more. That his care and friendship signaled the start of something between them. It was a mistake she’d made in the past, but a repeat this time would hurt her so much more. The stakes were higher, because despite the fact that she didn’t know him well, she genuinely liked Rob. Sure, she’d been using him as a practice flirt, but she’d dared to hope that maybe they could really become friends.
The policeman entered and introduced himself as the nurse finished up by bandaging Stacey’s arm where the IV catheter had been.
“I’m Officer Foreman, Atlanta PD. Sorry about your accident, ma’am. I just need to get your side of the events as they happened.”
“No problem,” Stacey said. “It happened pretty fast, but there wasn’t much to it. I had just left the parking deck, and I stopped at the light. When it turned green, I stepped on the gas, and then I saw the truck out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t have time to do anything. And then”—she shrugged one shoulder—“that was that.”
“Were you on your cell phone at the time?” The cop stared straight at her, even though the point of his pen was tapping on a small notebook held in his hand.
The question was so unexpected it took her a moment to process it. “What? No.”
“No texting at all? Maybe fiddling with your GPS?”
“What exactly are you implying?” Rob said, stepping forward. Stacey was glad for the interference. Officer Foreman had a stern, almost mean look in his eye, and she couldn’t stop herself from shrinking into the bed under his glare.
“Please answer the question, Ms. Hough.”
She paused a moment for a cleansing breath.
“No. I was not on my phone, I was not fiddling with a GPS, and if you’ve got any more questions, you can direct them to my lawyer.” Her voice was cool, but the tears welling in the corners of her eyes belied her calm demeanor. She hoped the jackass cop didn’t notice them.
“We’re done here,” Rob said, stepping between them. “If you’ll excuse us, she’s being discharged.”
The cop shot a look at Rob, not quite a glare but definitely a warning. But he gave Stacey a curt nod and left the room.
The silence fell then, Stacey’s machines having been silenced by the nurse before she’d exited. It was like a blanket of ice. Rob didn’t look at her. His gaze was trained on the door where Officer Dickhead had just left. But his hands were balled into fists at his sides.
“I guess the other driver is trying to blame me for the wreck,” she said. It was obvious, but she had to break the silence somehow. If only to assure herself that the encounter had actually happened and was not a product of her pain medication. “It looks like I’ll need a lawyer.”
“We’ll worry about that tomorrow. Come on, your chariot’s arrived.” Rob indicated the wheelchair that an orderly had wheeled over next to the bed. Stacey’s belongings were packed in a white plastic bag marked PROPERTY OF PATIENT on the side, and hung on a hook at the back of the wheelchair.
“If you want to get your vehicle, we can meet you at the side entrance,” the orderly said.
Rob nodded, and gathered up Stacey’s discharge paperwork. “I’ll see you out there.”
Stacey watched as he left the room.
The orderly helped her swing her legs off the side of the bed and transfer her to the wheelchair without putting any weight on her leg.
“Your boyfriend is cute,” the orderly said as he took the brakes off.
“Thanks, but he’s not my boyfriend,” Stacey said.
She closed her eyes as the wheelchair rolled through the maze of hallways toward the exit. Exhaustion saturated her. All she wanted was to crawl into her own bed and sleep for about a week, but she couldn’t. There were prescriptions to pick up, doctors to see, a lawyer to contact. The tasks stacked one on top of another, and the discomfort nipping at the edges of her consciousness made them seem insurmountable.
At least she had Rob to help, for now. She’d just have to make sure she understood that his kindness was just that.
Reading too much into it would ruin whatever thing they’d just started.