Page 46 of Little Sunshine

I was almost certain she was lying, but there was no tell. No overselling it. No emphasis. No fidgeting. No stuttering.

Pierce called her flawless bluff. “Good. He will need to pick you up so I can give him the discharge instructions before I release you.”

Mila’s face fell before she quickly caught herself and smoothed it out. “He’s at work until the morning.”

“You can stay here and rest until then. That’ll give the pharmacy time to get your prescriptions ready. Are you allergic to hydrocodone?”

“I don’t need anything. I have Motrin.” She tilted her head to look at him. “Actual Motrin.”

I wanted to take her over my knee for being so frustratingly stubborn, but I couldn’t.

She was already injured.

She’d already punched me in the dick once that day.

And she wasn’t mine.

Rather than threatening her with a punishment I had no right to give, I said, “Don’t be a martyr, little girl.”

“This is none of your business,” she snapped at me.

My lips quirked, but before I could respond to tell her I was making every damn thing about her my business, Pierce sat again. “Mila, you’ve got some nasty bruising. Over-the-counter pain medication won’t cut it.”

“It’s what I have, so I’ll make do.”

I had no damn clue why she’d turn down relief when she was clearly in pain. Just like I had no damn clue why her cheeks flamed red under the bright hospital lights.

But Pierce knew. “There’s no copay for this visit or any prescriptions.”

Her eyes closed as her head dropped back. “I don’t have insurance, so not only will there be charges, they’re gonna be big.”

“Mila, we don’t bill people who?—”

Mila shot back up, her voice adamant. “I am not charity.”

“I never said you were. It’d be the same for anyone.”

I wasn’t sure if that was the hospital’s official policy or just the doc’s, but it didn’t matter.

Her expression didn’t look happy, but her body language shifted anyway. Her shoulders dropped. Her muscles loosened.

She relaxed.

All that fight. It wasn’t about protecting anyone or a hospital phobia.

She’d been willing to suffer without medical attention because of the bills.

Christ, I’m a fucking idiot.

“While you decide what you want to do,” Dr. Pierce said, “I’m going to draw up your discharge paperwork so it’s ready when you are.”

When the door closed behind him, I took his place on the stool. I wasn’t expecting her to acknowledge me, but she quietly asked, “Is he going to call the cops to report this?”

“No.”

I’ll handle them in a more satisfying way than the law could.

“Actually no, or the same way you weren’t going to take me to the hospital?” she pushed.

---