Page 7 of Hail Marry
“I just wanted to know if she’s okay.”
“The doctor should be in soon.” The door opens again.
“Hey,” the guy whisper-yells. There’s a pause, then footsteps moving toward the door. When he speaks again, his voice is even lower and softer than usual. I have to strain to hear it—all while looking like a serene, sleeping goddess. “Has her boyfriend shown up?”
My face heats up. Do people blush while they sleep?
“I’m not sure,” the nurse says. “I haven’t seen anyone but you.”
Ugh. The on-the-spot boyfriend I created when I realized the danger I had put myself in by hopping into a car with a total stranger is really letting me down right now.
“I’m just wondering if I should take off,” my rescuer says.
“I think she’d like you to stay. She was pretty upset when she thought you’d left.”
Okay, no one blushesthismuch in their sleep. Or ever, maybe. If I could give this nurse a Google review, it’d be one star. I was notpretty upset. I was…slightly annoyed.
“The doctor should be in right away,” the nurse repeats for the millionth time.
I suppress an eye roll as the door shuts.
It gets quiet, and I try to keep my breathing slow and even, but it feels like the hospital pumped the room with cement instead of air. Why couldn’t the nurse have just told him he could leave?
From the sound of it, he takes off his coat, then sits in the farthest possible chair from me. The silence continues, and I’m suddenly unsure how often people move in their sleep. Should I turn over? Fake soft snoring? That seems risky.
A tapping noise starts, but I have no idea what it is. I let one eye open a sliver, and through the hazy speck of a view, I see the guy’s shoe. It’s a black Oxford, and it’s tapping an impatient beat on the floor.
This man wants out, which, to be fair, I understand. He went out of his way to save a stranger’s life, even ruining that nice suit of his, and now he’s been stuck with said stranger for a couple of hours at the hospital while her good-for-nothing fake boyfriend neglects her.
It’s time for action.
Shifting in the bed, I force a frown to my brow. I bat my eyelids a few times until they open, then look around like I’m trying to remember where I am. It’s an Oscar-worthy performance.
The foot tapping stops, and I lock eyes with my rescuer—whose name I really need to find out.
He scoots to the edge of his chair, his dark eyes fixed on me intently. “How are you feeling?”
“Totally fine,” I say, way too chipper for a person who just woke. But in comparison with this guy’s perma-frown, anything beyond deadpan is probably going to seem over-the-top happy.
“Good.” He’s got a little tube of cream in his hands, and he holds it up. “The nurse brought this. She said to just rub some onto…the injury?” His confused gaze darts to my head.
“Ah.” I smile. “The injuryyougave me.”
His thick brows pull together. “I…saved your life.”
“And crushed me in the process.” I hold up my arm to reveal the road rash.
His expression turns stricken.
“I’m totally kidding,” I say, reaching for the cream and frowning at the unpronounceable medication name. “I’d rather be underyouthan a semi.” My gaze flies to his and my cheeks ignite.
The teensiest hint of a smile crosses his lips, but he wipes a hand over his mouth, and it’s gone. Maybe it was never even there.
“That’s not what I meant,” I hurry to clarify. “I mean, it is. But not like—” I stop talking. This isn’t a train I’m prepared to take to its destination.
“I know what you meant.”
I twist the lid off the cream, eager to change the subject. “I’d better get some use out of this if it’s going on my bill. Any guesses how much it’ll cost me? I’m betting at least $300.”
