Page 69 of Gin & Jewels
“I hope so.” She chuckled.
“Yes, everything,” I affirmed.
“Are you mad I used a fake name?” Cassie asked Mom.
Mom reached out and grabbed Cassie’s hand. “Of course not, honey. And, I won’t tell Greta either. All she needs to know is that you don’t work at Dovie’s anymore. I’ll get your paycheck and bring it to you.”
“Thank you,” Cassie replied.
“Won’t her paycheck be in her fake name?” I asked.
“Oh, right,” Mom agreed. “I’ll figure something out. I’ve known Greta for years.” Cassie nodded. “And speaking of, I must get to the diner for my shift. I’ll be back tonight with fresh clothes for you, Bradley.” Mom hugged Cassie and then me. “See if you can use the shower in the bathroom. You’re starting to smell like a man.”
I chuckled and rolled my eyes. “I am a man.”
“You know what I mean.” She patted my cheek and then left.
Cassie yawned.
“Get some rest, princess. I’m not going anywhere.”
For a week, I spent every night at the hospital. Robert (Dr. Watson) had them bring me a cot to sleep on instead of the tiny loveseat that barely fit my torso. I also took a shower in the bathroom in Cassie’s room, even though I was told it was against hospital rules. I knew how to charm the nurses, so they turned a blind eye.
Each day, Cassie got stronger. She was still hooked up to IVs and pain meds, as well as a catheter. Robert was hopeful that she would get to go home in a few more days, but recovery would last for several months. Her gunshot wound was one hundred times more damaging than mine was, even the time I was shot in Iran. That time I was hit in the side, but I didn’t have a uterus or fallopian tubes damaged like Cassie—obviously.
“Morning, Cassie,” a nurse said as she came into the room after breakfast. “Are you ready to try walking today?”
“Really?” she asked.
“Dr. Watson said it should be time to get some of your strength back and make sure you’re doing okay. That way, you can go home in a few days.”
“Sure. I would love to get out of here,” Cassie replied.
“I bet.” The nurse looked at the computer. “Everything looks good. Let’s get the catheter out and then get you on your feet.”
I stood up quickly, wanting to make sure Cassie had privacy for that. “I’ll just take a walk down the hall and back.”
As I stepped just past the door, I heard the nurse say, “Girl, that man is a keeper.”
“Yeah, he is,” Cassie confirmed.
I smiled and stepped farther down the hall, going to the end and back. When I got back to the room, the nurse was trying to get Cassie out of bed. I rushed over to help. “I’ve got you.”
“Just give it some time for your legs to get used to weight again,” the nurse stated. “Then hang onto this”—she wheeled the stand that had all of Cassie’s IVs attached to it closer—“and see if you can walk to the end of the hall and back.”
And we did several times until she got tired and went back to bed.
“Hungry?” I asked, walking into Cassie’s hospital room carrying a pizza.
Her eyes widened. “You got pizza?”
I placed the box on her tray. “I figured you were tired of hospital food.”
“You have no idea.” I opened the lid, and her eyes grew big again. “Pepperoni and pineapple? How’d you know?”
“A man doesn’t reveal his ways.” I grabbed a paper plate the pizza place gave me and slid a slice onto it before handing it to her. “I’m kidding. You told me when I was asking you questions to keep you talking before the paramedics arrived.”
“I don’t remember that.” She bit into her slice and moaned.
