Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“She’s an amazing woman.”
“She is,” he quickly agrees. “The rest of the team is here.”
I immediately shake my head. “I need some time. Nothing makes sense right now.”
He nods. “I understand. I’ll tell them to give you some room to breathe.”
“I appreciate it.”
I’m grateful that he doesn’t argue. I’ve seen it before, people thinking they have a right to someone’s time during recovery even when the patient doesn’t want it. Obligation, more times than not, will have someone agreeing, but I feel no obligation to people I don’t know and can’t remember.
“How long have I been in New Mexico?”
“Less than two months.”
“And I still have a job with you even though I fucked up less than a month in?”
“What happened to you wasn’t your fault.”
“Don’t pull that victim shit with me.” I swallow, hating that my mood has shifted and has become too hard to control. “Sir.”
He grins at the addition. “Just work on getting your strength back, Bishop, and then we’ll go from there.”
I nod because it’s the only thing I can manage right now.
Knowing I dreamed of marrying Angeline but being able to admit it never happened are two different things. I don’t have a clue if I came to New Mexico to try and win her back or if I got over her before I joined. It’s not a question I even feel like asking out loud right now.
So much is muddled in my head, and I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t.
“I’ll have some of your real clothes and your phone brought to you,” he says. “I’m accessible twenty-four seven if you need me. Just let Sunshine know.”
Kincaid walks out and another woman in scrubs walks in.
“Hi there!” The bubbly personality is like nails on a chalkboard for me right now.
“Hi.”
“I’m Susan, one of the nurses here. I’m going to take out your Foley.”
I turn my eyes up to the ceiling as she goes to the sink to wash her hands.
I sense movement and hear the opening of some sort of package.
The air is cold on my skin.
“I’m sorry this saline isn’t warm.”
I wince a second later as something cold is rubbed around the head of my cock.
I’m a grown-ass man, but there’s something so emasculating about this entire thing right now, I just want to cry.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to think of anything but what’s happening.
“Deep breath,” she urges, but nothing can prepare me for the actual removal of the damn catheter.
My heart pounds and my stomach turns. This may be worse than that time I was stabbed in the bar I got drunk at last time I was in the Middle East.
“It’s done,” Susan says, pulling down the gown I’m wearing and then covering me back up. “You may experience some minor urinary incontinence for a few days until your body remembers how it’s supposed to work.”
Her words make me realize I have been completely helpless for the last month, and if they were feeding me through a tube then that means…
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, bringing my arms up to cover my eyes.
“We’re glad to see you awake, Mr. Porter. You’ll be back to normal before long.” She reaches into the cabinet at the bottom of the bedside table. “For ease until your muscles are a little stronger.”
I stare at the plastic, handheld urinal in her hand, refusing to take it.
“I’ll just put in on your bedside table,” she says with a warm smile. “If you need help with anything at all, just pull that cord there.”
She points to the clip tied to the strip that’s clamped to my pillowcase before leaving the room. I rush to pull the urinal from the bedside table, tucking it at my side and out of view of whoever else may decide to come in here.
Maybe telling Kincaid I’d stay was the wrong choice, but being here has to be better than being there, right?
I pull the covers back, but my legs won’t move the way I need them to. I’m sweating by the time I lift each one and manage to swing myself so I’m sitting on the edge of the bed. Anger swarms through every cell in my body. I haven’t felt helpless in a very long time. So long, in fact, I haven’t thought of the time before I was adopted, often, as an adult.
My legs shake uncontrollably as I try to extend them out to stand, and I know the doctor is right. I’m not as strong as I feel in my head.
I lower my head into my hands, wondering why I even woke up in the first fucking place.
Chapter 9
Sunshine
I expect to find him asleep when he doesn’t answer my knock, but he’s sitting on the side of the bed.
“Mr. Porter?”
He lifts his eyes, relief, and something else I can’t quite figure out, on his face.