Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) by Evie Mitchell (short story to read .txt) 📗

Jetta. “Look, I get you have Pax issues. But he has Jetta issues. And those hens just came home to roost. The motherfucker is so tied up in you that he laughed about you trashing his house. Laughed!” I tossed up my hands.

Addie, for once in her life, didn’t give me shit. Colour me rainbow, the woman backed me up. “And that’s before you even throw both of you bumping naughties into the mix.”

“Addie!”

“What?” Addie grinned, shrugging delicately. “I’m just saying sex, especially as the guy is your first love, complicates things.”

The woman spoke truth.

Jetta sighed, shoulders slumping as she curled into herself. “You’re right. We need to abstain.”

I choked. For a beat the room remained silent as we all stared at Jetta. Then I tipped back my head, letting the laughter burst free. Emmie and Addie joined me, all of us roaring at the hilarity of this situation.

“Good luck,” Emmie chocked out. She grimaced, hands raising to flutter above the bandage at her injured side. I sobered, moving to the bed.

A nurse bustled in at that moment, likely drawn by our noise. She took one look at Emmie’s pinched, pale face and frowned.

“Out! Now! Ms Franklin is meant to have taken her painkillers and be sleeping right now.”

Emmie shrugged sheepishly. “Hashtag sorry, not sorry.”

“Out!” The nurse ordered.

I followed the girls, throwing a glance over my shoulder. Emmie gave a finger wave.

“Luc?”

“Yo?” I turned back to the two women in front of me.

“Can you take me to the office?”

“Sure.”

Jack rounded the corner, a sandwich in hand.

“Stay with Jack for a minute. I left something in the room.”

I jerked my head at Jack. He nodded. I turned, jogging back.

The nurse had left, but Emmie was awake, fat tears rolling down her cheek.

“Hey,” I called, coming back into the room. “You okay?”

She wiped frantically at her face. “Of course, yes. I mean, of course.” She cleared her throat.

“You know you don’t have to lie to me.” I sank into the chair beside the bed, reaching out a hand for hers. “You’re entitled to tears.”

She chewed her lip, looking anywhere but at me, her green eyes shimmering. “I don’t like feeling helpless,” she admitted in a whisper. “And I really hate the painkillers.”

“Why?” I brushed my thumb over her knuckles.

She shrugged, her eyes on our hands.

“Emmie?”

“The medication gives me nightmares.” Her voice cracked on her whispered confession.

“You need me to stay?”

She shook her head, withdrawing her hand.

I hesitated. “You want me to stay until you fall asleep?”

“I’m okay. I’m used to it.”

“What do you dream about?”

“Monsters.” She shuddered.

I frowned. “The real or imagined type?”

She jerked, head swinging my way, staring at me with wide eyes. “How did you…?”

“We all have bones that rattle.” I tapped the side of my head. “Memories writher and morph in my dreams until I can’t tell what is real and what my brain created.”

She blew out a long breath, her eyelids growing heavy. “I really hate being weak.”

“You’re weak in body at the moment, true. But soon you’ll be strong and kicking all our arses again.”

She chuckled, her lashes fluttering down to dust the bruised shadows under her eyes. “Yeah, I will,” she mumbled. “I just hate the nightmares.”

I reached over, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She blinked up at me, “What was that for?”

“To hurry the sweet dreams.”

She grinned, her eyelids once again lowering. I watched, waiting. A moment later her breathing eased as she fell into unconsciousness.

“Luc? You ready?” Jetta asked from the door. Addie propped a hand on her hip, glancing from Emmie to me and back. Jack entered, settling in my seat in the corner.

I hesitated, watching Emmie’s chest rise and fall peacefully.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

* * *

Emmie

As much as I liked Dr. CJ, and I really did, right at this moment it took all I had not to hit him over the head with a bedpan. Preferably a used one.

“Ms Franklin?” Dr. CJ asked.

“I reject your diagnosis.”

He blinked at my statement. “Ms Franklin–”

I’d spent the ten days recovering. I’d battled an infection. I’d vomited more in one day than I had in my entire life. I wore a bandage that itched like crazy. But this?

Ridiculous.

“Sixteen weeks to full recovery? It’s too long.” I sounded like a petulant child, and I didn’t give a flying toot.

“Emmie–”

I shoved my hand up in Luc’s face, halting whatever nonsense he was about to spout. The man may have spent the last few weeks working out of my hospital room, but I had no time for him right now.

“No. No words from you.” I looked back at the doctor. “Tell me what I need to do to be out of here, home and healed.”

The doctor blew out a slow breath.

“Your bones are still healing, and we can’t start rehab until that infection is completely gone. We push this too quickly and we could damage the healing we’ve achieved. We’re going as fast we can, but your body speaks for itself. It’s telling us it needs more time.” He tapped a pen against the clipboard in emphasis. “At this stage, another two days in hospital.”

“And then I can go home?”

“And then, if you pass all the tests, you can go home.”

I sat back on the bed with a smile.

“With a walker.”

My smile twisted down.

“That’s impossible. Her apartment’s a walk-up.”

I glared daggers at Luc. He ignored me.

Dr. CJ frowned. “Is Mr Falco correct? Does your apartment have stairs?”

I continued to scowl at Luc. “Yes, but it’s fine.”

The doctor shook his head. “No stairs. The injury alone makes you unstable, even with the walker. We need alternative arrangements until you’re well enough to manage on your own.”

“But–”

“She can stay with me.”

“I’m not staying with you,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes at Luc before switching my gaze back to the doctor, offering a breezy smile. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

I can’t afford not to be.

“I’m not discharging you unless someone is available to assist. You’ll require a wheelchair, a walker, and eventually a walking stick. We haven’t even got you up