Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
“Your bedside manner sucks.” I briefly contemplate throwing my pillow at her. Instead, I flop down onto it, suddenly drained. My God. What might’ve happened if Niko hadn’t been near? And how do I tell Sandy that one of his friends drugged me? The armchair creaks, Tamsin’s soft steps sounding on the carpet before the side of the bed dips with her weight. My eyes are still screwed closed as my fingers seek hers. “Don’t give up your day job, Florence.” I tighten my eyes against the sudden onset of tears, tiredness, fear, and even a touch of shame makes for a horrible case of overwhelm.
“I don’t know how nurses deal with this stuff,” she answers, her voice soft. “Real life, scary stuff.” I hear her swallow thickly, her words turning watery. “You were completely out of it, like a warm corpse with just these brief flashes of reanimation.”
“Frankenstein’s bride?” The words come out on a watery sob as I tighten my eyes, causing a kaleidoscope of colors to burst behind my lids. Someone drugged me. Someone I know wanted to cause me harm, and I don’t know how to process that.
“But your friend was amazing, Izzy. He carried you up here in his arms and had a posh Harley Street doctor in the room within twenty minutes. He didn’t even flinch when you turned into Carrie, though you might’ve been a bit more considerate and vomited on his trousers as well.”
“What?” The room is bright when I open one eye, Tamsin little more than a shadowy outline. A watery, giggling outline.
“You vomited on his shirt, and he took it off. Try not to be semi-conscious when he does that next. It’s so worth it.”
“Pervert.” The word comes out warbly. “I was going to say thank you for staying with me, but maybe I can ask him to flash you again as thanks.”
“You gave us such a fright,” she whispers.
“Who else was here?” How many people saw me in such a state?
“Just the two of us after I sent Dex home. There was a little too much testosterone in the room before that.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, attempting to push up onto my elbow.
“Your friend Niko is a little intense. He was very upset. Hella angry, really.”
“At Dex?”
She shrugs. “That the doctor wasn’t here fast enough, even though he was pretty quick. At the dick who spiked you. At your brother when I said you’d come here looking for him.”
“Does he know who my brother is?”
“I didn’t mention who he was. I didn’t want to cause any trouble, though I did find his number in your phone, but there was no answer. I left him a voice message, but then I got distracted when Dex started to dry heave in sympathy, and Niko totally lost his shit again.”
“That’s not Dex’s fault that he’s a sympathy vomiter.”
The lift of her eyebrows says what she thinks about Dex’s affliction. “It was total madness in here. The rage-y Niko muttering curses because I couldn’t get ahold of your brother, yelling at Dex for being a drama queen, and…” She pauses. “To be honest, I thought Niko was your brother initially.” I frown at her pensive expression, waiting for her explanation. “He just kind of took over.” That’s usually Tamsin’s job. “And he was kind of imperious.”
“You mean rude?”
“More commanding. It seemed like a duke-ly attitude. Anyway, he was a little too possessive for a brother.” She pauses for a beat, studying me. “So as you can imagine, I have questions about you and your not-so-little friend.” She shoots me a sudden sly glance. “But they can wait. You look wiped out. You should rest now.”
“My mouth tastes like a box full of used cat litter.”
“Don’t tell me. You once mistook it for granola,” she says, getting up from the side of the bed.
“Don’t make me laugh. It hurts my stomach and my head.”
Tamsin crosses the room and grabs her purse from the back of the chair before coming back to thrust a travel-sized mouthwash into my hand. “Spit it in the glass,” she says, passing it to me next. “I’ll rinse it and get you a fresh glass.”
Like a good little patient or a person drained of energy, I do as I’m bid before lowering my head to the pillow again.
“Better?”
“Less yucky, thank you.”
Setting the glass and mouthwash down, Tamsin grabs the half-fallen quilt, settling it over me. “I’m going home to get changed. I’ll grab you some clothes.”
“Good plan.”
“Better than going home in a sheet, anyway.” She begins to stroke the hair from my face. “Want anything else?”
“To come back as a cat in my next life,” I whisper, relaxing into her touch. “That feels so nice.” And like a content feline, I drift off to sleep again.
7
Isla
The light has shifted when I next open my eyes, the weak spring sunshine retracting from the room. As I lift my head, I find it no longer weighs as much as a small car, and with a jolt of what can only be described as pleasure, my nurse is no longer Tamsin.