Page 47 of Ice
“Seriously? I think you need to go back to doctor school. You clearly skipped all the classes on not being a self-righteous prick.”
Doc shrugged. “You’re on a drip to keep you hydrated, and you nearly needed a fucking transfusion. You could have died, so maybe the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’. Yourbrothers got to you in time, or you wouldn’t still be breathing. I’m so fucking angry with you, I almost told them to take you to a damn hospital instead.”
I finally managed to push myself up from the bed. He was right about the drip. There was a tube pinching its way into the back of my hand.
“How long before I can move?”
“Still waiting for two little words, dipshit.”
I gave up on trying to get up. My body felt like I’d been hit by a truck.
“I’ll just rest here a bit.”
“Ice, what the hell were you thinking? You scared the hell out of everyone, and you got that poor therapist of yours into trouble. Was that really fair on her?”
Fuck. I tried sitting up again, ugh. Mistake.
“What do you mean? Lissa’s in trouble?”
He stuffed more pillows behind me, so I could sit up a little.
“What do you think? She’s your therapist, and you just ran out and snorted a faceful of coke. She clearly failed in her treatment. Although I’m not sure exactly what treatment involved her being in your bed.”
“Where is she?”
He strode over to grab his phone from the desk, glancing up briefly.
“Reacher had her thrown out.”
“What the fuck for?”
He held his phone up to his ear.
“He’s awake.”
Five minutes later, I had the opportunity to ask him myself, when he slammed the door open, and it crashed shut behind him. His face was fixed into a fierce scowl, and I knew I was about to get my ass handed to me.
“He okay?” He was staring at the doc, and Doc nodded.
“No permanent damage, luckily for him.”
“Look away, Doc.”
Doc turned around, but I caught the smirk on his face, a split second before Reacher’s fist crashed into my face, knocking me back on the bed. He followed it up with a tight grip on the back of my neck, and dragged me into a hug.
“You fucking stupid son of a bitch. I thought we’d lost you.”
I tried not to throw up all over him, but the blow to my head had been a big mistake. I shoved away just in time to vomit over the side of the bed.
“Jesus.”
Doc groaned. “I’m not cleaning that up. Get a prospect in.”
“You said he was okay.”
“He is. He’s feeling a bit sorry for himself, but hopefully you just knocked some sense into him. He’s on the drip for another hour, then you can get him out of here.” Doc was shaking his head as he strode out of the infirmary and the door slammed again.
Reacher grabbed a chair and pulled it over on the side of the bed not splattered with the contents of my stomach.
