said.
“I don’t think we can do that. Hospital regulations. I had to practically bribe intake just to get her in this room.” Miles scooped her up and held her over the bed. She wagged her tail and licked my face tentatively. I gave her a big kiss goodbye.
“Don’t worry,” Miles said. “I’ll take good care of her.”
“Let her sleep in your bed,” I said.
“Okay,” Miles said.
“If she sheds, maybe some hair will wind up on your head.”
Miles scratched Lucy behind her ears. “I knew you were good for something,” he said in a cooing “talking to dogs” voice. “I just didn’t know for what until now.”
My eyelids sank shut as they both shuffled out in exhaustion.
***
Miles arrived back at the hospital at ten a.m. with crisp, clean clothes, a bottle of vanilla-scented spritzer, and a freshly shaved head.
“Wow,” I said. “Who are you?”
Miles groaned. “Shut it. I feel like a skinhead.”
“And you look like one, too,” I chirped. Despite the circumstances, I was in kind of a good mood. The lidocaine gel the doctor had prescribed for my burns kept them from hurting, and plus, we were definitely onto something. If PetroPlex was behind the violence (which I was 95% sure they were), and if I could find out whatever little piece of information they thought might be worth killing over, I could use it as leverage to get a quick, high settlement and a very large paycheck for myself just in the nick of time—maybe even before summary judgment. Assuming I could simultaneously keep myself out of harm’s way, that is. Maybe if the info were really good, I could get a high enough settlement to get out of this town and start my own law firm. How great would that be?
“Get dressed,” Miles said, tossing the clothes on the bed. Jeans, a tank, and the sheer shirt I had admired. Ugh. I was willing to bet the jeans didn’t fit my behind. I could never find jeans to fit my curvy behind. If they did, they were always too loose at my waist, which was petite.
There was something in his face I didn’t like.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He hesitated. I immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion.
“Lucy!” I gasped.
“No, no,” he said.
“Then what?” I started to get up.
Miles put his hand on my shoulder and gently pushed me back down.
“Actually, you might want to stay sitting down for this.”
What on earth? “Spill it,” I said.
Miles took a deep breath and gazed up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes as though gathering the strength to spit out what he was about to say. “PetroPlex has replaced their lead counsel in this case,” he finally said.
I felt relieved. “Is that all?” I said. “Holy cow, I thought you were going to tell me something terrible.”
“With Dorian Saks,” he finished.
“What!” I was instantly out of the bed. “As in Dorian Saks, my ex fiancé?”
Miles cowered in the corner. “I’m afraid so.”
“As in, Dorian Saks, diamond ring big enough to have its own zip code, mansion in Highland Park, never having to eat Ramen noodles ever again Dorian Saks?”
“You eat Ramen?” Miles asked, horrified.
“Never mind,” I said, trying to calm down.
“There’s more. Dorian wants to meet with you this afternoon.” Miles ducked for cover.
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!” I clawed at my hair, my face. “He’s already in town? PetroPlex did this on purpose!”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
“And he didn’t care. Anything for a buck.”
“Maybe he wanted to see you again.”
“I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t want to see him! Ever again!”
Miles tentatively crept out of his corner and patted my back softly. “I’ll go with you.”
“And what?” I could feel my head floating through the ceiling. I could see my own body. This couldn’t be. This could never happen. Part of the reason I was okay with living in Kettle, Texas was because I knew it was a place in which Dorian Saks would never, ever set foot.
And yet, he was here. Here! How could this be? How could I work with him in the picture?
A worried nurse poked her head in the door.
“Don’t worry,” Miles assured her. “Trial lawyer antics.”
She disappeared hurriedly, no doubt repulsed. Medical people hate trial lawyers. Something about medical malpractice and frivolous suits.
“You didn’t tell him about the fire, did you? Say you didn’t tell him about the fire.”
“No, I didn’t tell him.”
“If he finds out about the fire, he’ll know I’m destitute, and he’ll use it as leverage against me.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell him.”
“What if he finds