The Reburialists - J. C. Nelson Page 0,58

it was the sound of his voice or the butchered translation job that woke me. If my throat didn’t feel like I’d gargled battery acid, I would have done a better job of explaining why I kicked him out. It wasn’t just because my gown covered less than half of what it ought to. I had no doubt Brynner had looked on finer rear ends than mine.

I felt nasty and probably smelled worse. I didn’t want him near me like that. If he was going to be near me, I wanted to look my best. So with the nurse’s help, I hobbled to the shower and sat in it, turning the water ever hotter.

“Just breathe the steam—it’ll help with your throat. Pull that call chain when you are ready to get out.” She left me in the bathroom, in the fog of the shower and my own mind.

I remembered figuring out the journals.

And kissing Brynner.

And pain, first in my hand, then in my thigh. Lights swirling overhead as someone carried me, ran with me. Dirt roads and highways passing at speeds that made the lines blend together.

When I finally turned off the water, every inch of me flushed bright pink from the heat. Brynner had told me there were scorpions in the house. But I hadn’t exactly been thinking at the point where I got stung. I jerked the call chain and waited for help.

The nurse handed me a towel. “Don’t you worry. Your fiancé is down in the cafeteria, signing autographs, or so I hear.” She helped me over to the bed and nodded to my purse, which lay against the wall. “We brought that up with your things. I’m sorry, but they cut your clothes off in the ER.”

My hands and legs felt like they weighed fifty pounds each. I could barely sit up while she slipped a top and bottom on me. “Brynner’s not . . .” Not my what?

“I’m sorry,” said the nurse. “We thought ’cause of the bracelet, and all. I mean, he wouldn’t leave, hardly slept last night. I’ll let the staff know.” She knelt and slipped a pair of socks on my feet. “I think I’m going to take my morning break and go buy a man some breakfast.” She walked over to primp in my mirror.

“No.” The word burst out of my mouth along with a jolt of jealousy. “We—haven’t been together long.” Technically true, I told myself.

“I knew it. All the good ones are taken.” She washed her hands and walked out.

A short time later the head nurse came in and began to brush my hair.

I glanced in the mirror. I looked better than I felt, but not good enough. “You don’t happen to have any makeup, do you?”

She shook her head. “We don’t, but you don’t need any. You’ve got that natural beauty going on.”

“I just want to look my best.” Though I’d barely managed to admit it to myself, I couldn’t help wanting to look nice. He’d asked me point-blank if I liked him.

I’d lied to him back in the house. This time, I’d tell him the truth.

“Well, you can go shopping when you’re out and doll yourself up. Thank goodness it’s Friday. I’m ready for the weekend.”

I shook my head. “Excuse me. What day did you say it was?”

“Friday. Best day of the week. I’m not surprised you don’t remember yesterday, since you were damn near dead. My cousin in the ER says your fiancé drove you here himself.”

Any normal day where I woke up in the hospital after nearly dying, it would have been the fiancé remark that worried me. But for now, I needed to focus on getting to a bank by two to arrange payment. “I have to go.”

I struggled to sit up and tried to throw my feet off the bed.

“If you mean ‘go to the bathroom,’ I’ll help you. If you mean ‘leave the hospital,’ I’ll tie you down. I’ve seen kittens with more fight in them.” She blocked my exit from the bed, tapping her finger on the straps. “Do you think for a moment I won’t do it?”

I slumped back in the bed. “I have to go.”

“You aren’t going nowhere today. Maybe not tomorrow. Don’t get yourself on bed arrest, Ms. Grace.”

Desperate times called for desperate measures. I hated what I had to do, primarily because of what might come out of the nurse’s mouth while he was there, but I was out of choices. “Could you tell Brynner I’d like

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