Page 79 of Keeping Kasey
“That’sall it takes to make you speechless?”
“You’re an asshole,” she supplies with a wry grin.
I kiss her forehead. “That’s more like it, beautiful.”
“Sticking with that nickname?”
“I could go withGoldieif that’s better.”
Her eyes narrow, and I have never been so relieved to see that fiery spark as it replaces the hollowness.
“It most certainly is not.”
We’re both laughing softly when the nurse comes in.
She’s a woman in her mid-fifties with a kind smile and a gentle demeanor. “Hi, dear. My name’s Denise. I’ll be your nurse for the night. I’m going to take your vitals, and then we’ll get you something for that headache.”
Kasey absentmindedly brushes the small bandage on her arm with her fingertips. “I thought the other woman was my nurse for the night—the one with short black hair who gave me the antibiotic shot.”
The nurse’s brow furrows as she scans her badge to open Kasey’s chart.
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
“Of course not, Mr. Consoli,” she says with a slight shake to her voice as she scans the file. “I just didn’t see an order for an antibiotic shot come through—oh, here it is. Looks like one of the medical assistants administered the shot. One less thing for me to worry about.”
Denise’s shoulders visibly relax, and I’m certain she knows exactly who I am, what my expectations are concerning the care of anyone associated with my family, and how I’d react to the slightest neglect. She’s extremely thorough in checking Kasey’s temperature, blood pressure, and oxygen levels—double-checking every number before putting the equipment away.
“When can I be discharged?” Kasey asks as Denise enters the updated vitals into her chart.
“That’s not up to me,” she answers with a sympathetic smile. “But I’ll put in a request for the doctor to come in and see what they think. If they do keep you overnight, it’s just to monitor the concussion and verify there are no other concerns.”
Kasey nods, and the nurse leaves us alone.
“How do you feel about pulling some strings to get me out of here?”
I lift an eyebrow. “And go against doctor’s orders? Not happening. If they want to keep you, you’re staying.”
“It’s just a concussion. I don’t have a single injury that warrants staying overnight, and you know it.”
I do know it. The hospital is only being so careful with her because of me.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I tell her, taking her hand. “If you tell me what happened today, I’ll have you discharged.”
She—predictably—pulls her hand from mine. “That’s not fair.”
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I need to know what happened.”
“Is there any footage?”
I shake my head. “Brandon must’ve turned off the cameras at some point.”
She stares down at her hands for several seconds.
“Is Ford alive?”
“He’s in critical condition. They’re doing everything they can in surgery right now.”
Her eyes close, and I cradle one side of her face in the palm of my hand. When she finally opens her eyes, they shine with unshed tears.
