Page 3 of Room 1017

Most days I believed it was worth it, but right about now…

True to his word, the nurse came back and kicked off the brakes, gently urging the bed into a roll. He chatted lightly while we made our way down the hall. I stared up at the ceiling tiles sliding past until it made my head spin, then I closed my eyes and hoped for sleep.

“Lucky you, you’ve got a private room all to yourself,” Cesar gushed, somehow making it sound like he was talking about the penthouse suite. “Do you want the TV on?”

I didn’t answer, but it turned out he wasn’t waiting for one. He turned on some daytime talk show then set the remote on the bed within reach. Then he rounded the bed and draped the call button over the bedrail. “If you’re in pain or if you need anything, push this button and one of the nurses will come and check on you.”

I immediately reached over and pushed the button, and he raised a saucy eyebrow at me, smirking. “Yes?”

“I’m in pain,” I gritted out, my voice gravelly after being intubated.

“Yes, that is to be expected, which is why you’re already being given painkillers,” he said, pointing to the IV still inserted into the back of my hand. “But I can talk to your doctor and see what else we can offer for pain relief. Deal?”

I grunted again. In truth, I was pretty much always in pain, but whatever they were currently giving me certainly took the edge off. I should’ve been grateful for the temporary reprieve.

I was saved from having to form an actual response by a knock on the open door. “Knock, knock,” a voice said unnecessarily as Amy peeked in. She was smiling, which was nothing new—she wasalwayssmiling. I tried not to begrudge her. “Hey, partner.”

Cesar waved her in. “Perfect timing, come on in. I was just leaving.”

As he left and Amy made herself comfortable on the chair by my bedside, I closed my eyes. It was too late to pretend to be sleeping, but I really wasn’t ready for company. It was hard to wallow when the embodiment of sunshine was flashing smiles at me.

“So, can we officially celebrate now?” Amy held up a large bag and wiggled it around in front of me. “No more surgeries, yay!”

“Did you bring me a burger?” I asked brusquely, brushing past her question. I was in no mood to celebrate. “Maybe some fries?”

She gave me a mock glare. “Nice try. I happen to know for a fact that you’re on a liquid diet today. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get some mashed potatoes tomorrow.” She reached into the bag and pulled out… socks. “Ta-da!”

I raised an eyebrow at her, too tired to tell her it was a lame gift. But she was not the type to be dissuaded, so she got up and made her way to the end of the bed, where she untucked my blanket to expose my feet. I couldn’t help glancing down my body at them. They were too pale, smaller than I remembered them. I’d lost weight all over. Yep, I’d been on the near-death crash diet. It was all the rage.

“There, how’s that?” she asked, rubbing my newly socked feet.

Another grunt. I refused to admit that the fuzzy socks were kind of nice. Acknowledging something good kind of felt like a betrayal to all the bad things that were taking up my focus. And they definitely neededallmy focus. Amy just smiled slyly like she knew what I was thinking. She probably did. You couldn’t work as closely as we did without developing a sixth sense about each other.

“What else you got in that bag?” I asked out of curiosity when it looked like she wasn’t going to show me. This, of course, just made her smile wider.

“You’re so lucky. I’ve got… paperwork!” She added jazz hands, as if that would somehow make it more fun. “You need to fill it in for benefits. And also, Chalmers wanted to talk to you about—”

“Pass,” I snapped, cutting her off. Whatever my boss at the bureau had to say, I didn’t want to hear it.

“Ignoring it won’t make it go away,” she chastised.

“You say that, but how will I know for sure unless I try really hard. What else?” I asked, indicating the bag in her lap. Whatever else was in there had better be more fun than fucking paperwork.

It turned out her bag was a whole care package of homey items to make the new few days in the hospital more tolerable. Warm blankets and slippers, even a fuzzy beanie, because she knew I always got cold after surgery. Hand lotion scented with lavender and a pair of comfy pajamas. “They have a drawstring waist so you can make them as loose as you need around your incision.”

I stared down at the blanket now draped over my lap, and dammit, my eyes burned with the threat of tears. “Thanks, Amy,” I whispered through my dry throat.

Her smile turned sad. “Anytime.”

Her eyes took on a glassy sheen that was going to make me lose all sense of composure, so I cleared my throat and said, “That nurse promised a popsicle.”

She laughed lightly. “Alright, I can take a hint. No getting sappy on me. I’ll go get you that popsicle. Any particular flavor?”

“Anything bur orange,” I requested. “Please,” I added, reminding myself that I couldn’t be a total dick, not to the one person who’d always had my back.

When there was another knock on the door, I just assumed it would be Amy returning, but instead, it was my surgeon, Dr. Kwan.

The short man had dark brown skin and a terrific bedside manner. “How are you feeling, Agent Brown?” That title made my stomach clench, and I turned my face toward the ceiling, head swimming as I tried to tune him out. I didn’t want to listen to anything he said. Did any of it even matter? The surgery was over, but I would never fully heal. This was just fact.

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