those stitches.”
Stunned into obedience at the second voice, Sarah lowered her head onto the pillow and closed her eyes while she caught her breath and tried to process the presence of the man in her room.
Yasmoon cleared her throat. “I have your medication here.”
Sarah opened her eyes, keeping them trained on the nurse. No way would she acknowledge her father yet.
Yasmoon handed her a little white pill cup. Her other hand held a Styrofoam cup with a straw. “Please take it.”
“What’s it for?”
“It will help you with the nightmares. Make you less jumpy.”
Sarah crushed the cup around the pill and handed it back to Yasmoon. “I’ll pass.”
“Rochelle—” the general started.
“My name is Sarah,” she snapped. “And I’m not taking medication I don’t need.”
Yasmoon bowed her head in a sign of surrender. “I’ll just leave you to visit, then. Please let me know if you change your mind. The doctor will be in shortly.”
Once she was gone, Sarah shut her eyes. “What are you doing here, General?”
“Making sure you aren’t going to die.” His hand covered hers, the action clogging her throat and fogging her thought processes.
“I’m not your daughter anymore, so you don’t have to play the part of the concerned father. At least not on my behalf.”
“Not my daughter—what the heck are you talking about?”
“You disinherited me, remember?” Still, she didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to see him. “Cut me off and never looked back. That means you don’t need to be here.”
“Rochelle . . .” He cleared his throat. She thought she might have heard an echo of hurt in the word. “Stop. Of course I’m concerned. I thought you were dying.”
“I’m not. At least it doesn’t feel like it.” Actually, it kind of had, but the pain was bearable as long as she didn’t move. Fatima’s pained face filled her mind, and she gasped, eyes flying open. “Talia, Fatima, and the other girls? Are they all right?”
“All rescued. The one who was shot is still critical, though. She’s on another floor.”
Sarah fought the tears that built behind her eyes. There was no way she was crying in front of the general.
“That was a doozy of a nightmare you had there,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“It wasn’t the first.”
“I’m aware, thanks.”
“You should have taken the medication.”
“I don’t want medication I don’t need. The nightmares will fade. They always do.”
He held out a wet paper towel and she frowned, then met his gaze. He shook the towel. “It’s not a snake. It won’t bite.”
“Wasn’t worried it would.” But he might. She snatched it from him and wiped the sweat from her forehead and cheeks, taking in the hospital room, noting the equipment. “Wait a minute, I’m in Afghanistan. You were home in the States. How are you here?”
“They have these things called planes—”
She shot him a dark look and he shrugged.
“I got word you’d been shot. Twice.”
So, he’d hopped a plane and flown halfway across the world? For her? She squinted at him, tilted her head, closed her eyes tight, then reopened them. Yep, he was still there and he still looked like her father. “How long have I been here?” Asleep and unconscious. Had she said anything?
“Four days.”
What! Four days? “And you’ve been here how long?”
“Two.”
Which meant he’d dropped everything and flown over the minute he’d heard. She wasn’t sure what to think about that—except to try to figure out how it would benefit him.
“You could have died,” he said.
His gruff words jerked her attention back to the situation. She huffed. “What is it with you men and the need to state the obvious?” Why couldn’t she simply thank him for coming? Because she didn’t want him here. She really didn’t want to be in the same room with him.
He scowled. “What I’m saying is, the fact that you came so close to dying—or worse—has taken a toll on your brain. You might have some PTSD.”
“I’ve come close to dying before, and other than a few sleepless nights, I’ve never had a problem. I’ll be fine.” Hopefully. She refused to admit the latest round of nightmares was worse than anything she’d experienced before.
“You should talk to the psychiatrist,” he said.
“I don’t need a shrink, General.” And if she did, she knew exactly who she’d go to. A trusted friend named Brooke Adams, not a clock-watching stranger. “I can’t believe those words even came out of your mouth. You think they’re a bunch of nonsense, remember?”
He let out a low sigh that morphed into a chuckle. She didn’t think she