Page 262 of This Woman Forever

“Morning,” he says, taking the files out of Nurse’s hand.

“His blood pressure is a little low,” she tells him.

“It is?”

“But I feel okay,” I say. “Great, actually.”

“Maybe we should hold off for another day.”

“Agree,” Nurse says.

“Absolutely not.” I push the covers back and shift my legs, and Ava quickly discards the jar, cursing at me. “Watch your mouth,” I wheeze, fighting through the pain to get my legs off the side of the bed.

“Jesse, for Christ’s sake.”

“I’m fine.” And the sooner I demonstrate it, the sooner they’ll release me from this hell hole.

“Doctor, please.”

“Jesse, I don’t think you’re ready,” Mr. Emerson says gently. “What’s the rush?”

The rush? The rush is I’ve wasted nearly two decades of my life being wasted, ignorant, and empty. I need to crack on with life. “I’m fine,” I reiterate, letting my feet meet the floor, padding them gently. “Just a little stroll to the café or something.”

Mr. Emerson shakes his head, with no faith in my capabilities. I’ll show him. Ava faffs by my side, while the Nurse joins Mr. Emerson, shaking her head. “Please, Jesse,” Ava begs. “You’ll do yourself more damage and then be here longer.”

I ease my arse up, slowly rising, remembering the crazy headrush I got yesterday when I shot out of bed. Not showing how much it fucking hurts through my face is a task. “See?” I say, finally upright, Ava holding on to my elbow. “I’m fine.” I take one step, and the impact of my foot meeting the floor sends a wave of pain rippling up through my body. Fuck. “Totally fine,” I grate, taking another step. The door seems to get farther away, and I close one eye, squinting, when it turns into two doors. Oh fuck.

“Jesse!”

My body becomes weightless, a cold sweat breaking, and the sound of urgent words are muffled.

And then.

Black.

I open my eyes. Look around. I’m on my back. “After three,” someone says. “One, two, three. Up!” Then I’m floating.

“What happened?” I ask groggily, bobbing up and down, seeing two men at my feet I don’t recognize.

“You passed out.”

Ava?

I look up over my head and see her behind me, following us, quite the epic scowl on her face. I come to rest on the bed. Mr. Emerson appears, his expression saying a whole lot of I told you so. But he doesn’t say a thing, getting to checking my wound.

I slam my head back, frustrated. “Give it time,” Ava says, pulling one side of my boxers up a little. “What’s the rush?”

My shoulders drop, and I hiss when Mr. Emerson peels back my dressing. “Fuck.”

“Sorry,” he says gently. “It’s looking good.”

“But I can’t go home,” I grunt. “What if I swear not to leave my bed?”

He laughs. “Jesse, I don’t know you very well, but something tells me you’re not very good at doing what you’re told.”

I snort. “You’re getting me confused with my wife.”

Ava lightly smacks my bicep before pouring some water, and I watch her faff some more, wondering how long it’ll be before she gets bored of looking at me lying in a bed.

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