Page 61 of Edge

“You have to wait for your discharge papers,” Byte told her. “The doctor said it would be a few hours.”

“They’ll get me out of here a lot faster if I bug the piss out of them.”

Byte chuckled. “I’ll be happy to confirm with Gabby, but I’m almost certain you’ll get the opposite result if you annoy the nurses.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll wait patiently and hope I survive another horrendous meal. Seriously, what is this crap?” She lifted the warming lid covering her plate and pointed to the food masquerading as lunch.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “I have no idea but cover it up before more of the smell gets out.”

“I’ll go pick up whatever you want,” Edge offered.

“I’ll have a double cheeseburger meal from that place on the corner. No onions, add mayo, large fries, and Coke to drink,” Irene rattled off without an ounce of hesitation.

“Do you want anything?” he asked me.

“I’ll have the same thing she ordered.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he said after getting Byte’s order.

“Do you want me to help you get changed?” I asked Irene.

“I don’twantyou to,” she grumbled, “but I do need help.”

“I’ll wait outside the door,” Byte said, and quickly left the room.

“The fastest way to clear a room is for an old lady to threaten to take her clothes off.”

“Oh, stop. You’re still smoking hot, and you know it.”

“Well, I’ve definitely held up better than others my age,” she admitted. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

I’m not sure what she thought she needed help with. I stood there while she did everything herself. “Glad I could help,” I teased when she finished.

“I forgot about not being able to wear a bra. What the hell am I going to do for the next few weeks? I can’t let the girls swing free. Someone might get hurt.”

“Maybe you could wear a strapless bra,” I suggested.

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to pretend like you didn’t say that.”

“What?” I asked innocently.

“Strapless bras come in two sizes—so tight you can’t breathe or loose enough to breathe, but end up around your waist in a few hours.”

I nodded in agreement. “Okay, I see your point. We’ll figure something out.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t mean to be cranky. I’m hungry, my entire body hurts, and I’m ready to go home.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. You have every right to be cranky.”

“I’m also pissed that son of a bitch got one over on me. And Byte refuses to tell me what happened after all was said and done. All he says is, ‘we took care of it.’ Now, I know what that means, but I want to know the details.”

“I’ll tell you when we get you home,” I whispered.

“That’s my girl,” she said and patted my hand.

“I don’t know if this will make you feel better, but you being injured on the floor is likely what saved all of our lives.”

“How so?” she asked curiously.