Page 143 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
I’ve never felt so wretched in my life.
FORTY
KIMBER
The relentless beeping is what finally wakes me.
That, and the extraordinary amount of pain I’m in.
I blink open my eyes and fight to focus my vision until a clock swims into sight. It hangs on a wall painted sickly yellow opposite me. The clock ticks cheerfully with noises that ricochet inside my head like gunfire.
Where am I?
I turn my head and am rewarded for the movement by a white-hot spike of pain so intense it makes my vision shimmer. I hear a bellow, and assume either someone has let an elephant loose in the room or that trumpeting sound came from me.
I suspect my little tumble down the palace staircase has not ended well.
“Poppins! You’re awake!”
Into my field of vision looms Jenner, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. His hair is mussed, his eyes are red, and his clothing is wrinkled, as if he’s coming off a long weekend of heavy drinking and sleeping in his car.
I try, and fail, to ask what’s happening. Alarmed by my feeble bleating, Jenner says, “Oh God. Nurse! Nurse! She’s awake! She’s making strange noises!”
He disappears from view, but returns rather quickly, accompanied by a stern-looking male nurse who shines a bright light directly into my eyes.
“Mrpf!” I protest, scowling.
“How are you feeling, Miss DiSanto?” asks the nurse, in a tone adults use when speaking to infants. I’d like to smash his face.
“Everything hurts.” I manage to form the words correctly, which makes Jenner utter a cry of relief. The nurse thinks it’s pretty cool, too, because he beams at me.
“Good! That’s a very good girl.”
If this guy hands me a lollipop, I won’t be responsible for my actions. “What happened?”
“You’ve had a bad spill, I’m afraid.”
“How bad?” I try to crane my neck to look down at my body, but discover there’s a brace around my neck, preventing me from moving that way.
Terror sets in.
“How bad is it?” My voice is high and pitifully thin. The elephant has left the building.
“You’re going to be just fine,” says Jenner, in a soothing tone that manages to terrify me even more.
“I’m fucked, aren’t I? I’m paralyzed! I’m a quadriplegic! Oh God, just tell me the truth! I’ll be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life, right?”
The nurse looks at Jenner with his brows arched. Jenner lifts a shoulder. “If you knew what she’s been through lately, you’d get it.”
“You’re not paralyzed, Miss DiSanto,” says the nurse patiently.
“How do you know?” I holler, unconvinced.
He glances down. “Because of the death grip you have on my arm.”
I follow his gaze. Sure enough, that’s my hand digging into his nice tanned forearm. “What about my legs?” I shout, not letting go. “Why can’t I move my legs?”
Jenner says gingerly, “Could be the casts.”
