“This will help, but she’ll sleep some more.”
“She needs to sleep,” I reply. “I’ll be right here, baby.”
* * * *
“I’ve been in here for a week,” Fallon says. “I’m ready to go home.”
And thank God for it.
“Do you remember the part where you almost died?” Drake asks her. “Because I do. Trust me, we’re all ready to get you out of here.”
“Am I a pain in the butt?”
Drake laughs. “Yes, actually.”
“Good. Send me home. I have an eagle to set loose, and a business to run.”
Drake looks at me, but I just shrug. “I got nothin’. But I do love seeing her sassy like this as opposed to where she was a week ago.”
“Agreed.”
“Awesome. So, if you’re done talking about me like I’m not here, I’ll just get dressed and—”
“You don’t have any clothes,” I remind her. “They had to be cut off you.”
“I don’t mind going home in this,” she says, frowning. The bruises on her face have faded from bright purple to a yellow-green. “I’ve peed and pooped on my own, I can walk, and my incision is healing. What more do you want from me?”
“You’re right,” Drake says, surprising her. “You can go home today.”
“You’re not playing with my emotions, right?” Fallon asks.
“No, I’m not. Let me get the discharge paperwork together, and we’ll spring you. You need to follow up with me in a week.”
“I can do that.”
“And you can’t work during that week.”
She deflates. “I’m so bored.”
“Healing is boring work,” he says with a shrug. “No working. I mean it. I had my hands in your abdomen a week ago. It’s a big deal, Fallon.”
“Okay. At least I can be bored at home.”
“There’s the spirit. The nurse will be back with your discharge paperwork, and I’ll see you in a week.”
He leaves, and Fallon smiles at me. “I’m going home.”
“Seems so,” I say, not admitting to her that Drake told me this morning she’d be able to go home. I’ve had helpers at the house today, getting it ready for her.
“No hovering once we’re there,” she says, pointing her finger at me. “You’ve been here all week. You need to get back to work, too.”
“I have more volunteers than I know what to do with,” I remind her. “Besides, you’re the most important thing. Always.”
She smiles softly, then winces. “This damn black eye still smarts. Anyway, we need to go back to some normalcy.”
“We’ll get there,” I assure her. “Let’s just worry about getting you healed up, and then we’ll find normal.”
“Sounds great to me.”
Chapter Nineteen
~Fallon~
I feel like I’ve been…well, like I hit a tree. It hurts worse than I let on to Noah, but he’s been worried enough over the past week. He’s been with me every minute of every day, until last night when I encouraged him to go home and get some sleep. He can’t help me if he’s exhausted.
I was shocked when he agreed.
Dr. Merritt assured me this morning before Noah arrived at the hospital that the soreness is normal, and as long as I take it easy, I’ll start to feel better each day.
“Where’s my Jeep?” I ask Noah as he pulls into the driveway in front of the house.
“It was towed to a salvage yard,” he replies with a grim sigh. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“Did they get my purse and stuff?”
“Yes, it’s inside,” he replies, cutting the engine. “Don’t move. I’ll come around and help you.”
“No argument here,” I say with a smile. I may be stubborn, but I’m not stupid. He circles his SUV and opens my door, but rather than help me down to my feet, he scoops me into his arms, easily lifting me from the vehicle. “Having a super strong boyfriend is so handy.”
His lips tip up in a grin. “I’ll keep up with my workouts, just for you.”
I laugh and lean my head on his shoulder as he easily carries me up the steps to the front door. It’s unlocked, and when we step inside, I’m assaulted by something that smells amazing.
“What’s that?”
“Soup,” he says with a grin. “Mom and Autumn have been here all day, getting the house ready for you. Mom made her special chicken noodle soup. It’s guaranteed to help you feel better.”
“The smell alone has already done that.” He takes me back to the bedroom and sets me gingerly on the bed, on top of the covers. “I’d like to change out of this godforsaken hospital gown.”
“On it,” he says and walks to the dresser, finding a pair of yoga shorts and a loose T-shirt. I move to the edge of the bed, and Noah helps me untie the gown. “I’m going to burn this.”
“I want to help.”
Before he passes me my clothes, his eyes take inventory of the injuries still healing, and his lips flatten in a grim line.
“Jesus, Fal.”