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“Not beef broth.”
“No. We’ve got scrambled eggs, applesauce, yogurt.”
“Coffee?”
“A smoothie for now. We’ll check with the doctor on the coffee. He’s making his rounds, so he’ll be in shortly.”
“You said that before, I think, and Joel said I talked to him, the doctor. I don’t remember.”
“You’re on some excellent drugs. After you see the doctor, we’re going to get you up. We’re going to want you to take short walks several times a day. A therapist will be in later to show you some breathing exercises.”
“Can I take a shower?”
“Soon. We’re going to keep you busy for the rest of your stay. If discharge is the motivation, use it. You’ll get there faster. And food helps.”
She gave Sloan’s hand a pat, and left.
Sloan managed a few bites of egg, then leaned back. “It feels like I’m starving, then I start to eat. It’s exhausting. Nothing tastes right.”
“Try the smoothie.” Drea held the straw to Sloan’s lips.
After a taste, she shook her head. “I want some damn coffee, I want this thing out of me so I can pee like a normal person. I want to get the fuck out of this place, and I want…”
She stopped, pressed her hands to her face, mortified tears burned in her eyes.
“Jesus Christ, listen to me! I’m a bratty ten-year-old. I’m alive, and I could be, maybe should be, dead, and all I can do is whine.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just feel so bitchy.”
“Hey, some son of a bitch shot my sister. I’m feeling pretty bitchy, too.”
On a calmer breath, Sloan dropped her hands. “I’m top bitch. You can be assistant bitch.”
“Figures. Assistant bitch says try to eat a little more.”
“Okay.”
She tried more eggs, took a spoonful of yogurt.
“Sorry, honestly, that’s it.”
With a nod, Drea angled the tray away.
“Shit, does Matias know?”
Back turned, Drea fussed with a flower arrangement. “He came to see you the day after your surgery.”
“Do I have my phone? I should probably call him, or at least text him.”
With fire in her eyes, Drea spun back. “They let him in to see you. Mom and Dad insisted. He stayed about three minutes, and that’s probably overestimating. He hasn’t been back since.”
“Oh.” Her brain tried to process it. “All right.”
“Is it? Is it all right?”
“No, of course it isn’t. Not even close to all right. I’ll deal with it.”
“If you don’t boot that selfish asshole to the curb, I swear, I’ll wait until you’re back in shape— No, you’re stronger than me, and meaner. I’ll wait until you’re on your feet, barely, then I’ll kick your ass.”