Page 74 of Ride the Lightning
Avery leaned into his touch. “Nothing will happen to me. You and your friends will see to it. I’m more worried about you. You could’ve died tonight.”
“If he wanted me dead, I’d be dead. It was a warning. One I will not heed.”
A promise made was a promise kept.
Jonah woke a few hours later and found Marla sleeping in the chair beside his bed. As if she sensed him stirring, Marla sat up straighter and reached for his hand.
“Where’s Avery?” he whispered hoarsely.
“I sent the little lamb home to get some rest.”
Figures Avery would listen to Marla. Everyone did. Jonah snorted, then winced when just that motion sent pain reverberating through his skull.
“How you feeling, baby?” she asked.
“Bad,” Jonah admitted. “Really fucking bad.”
Marla caressed his face with cool hands. “I’ll get a nurse for you.”
Jonah gently wrapped his hands around her wrist to stop her. “Go home to Amos. You can’t rest comfortably in these chairs. It’s not safe to be around me right now,” Jonah replied.
Marla gave him one of her patented, long-suffering sighs. “What is some big baddie going to do to me that cancer isn’t already doing?” Her response caught Jonah off guard, allowing her to continue arguing unopposed. “I’ll spend the rest of my fucking days doing what I damn well please, and it pleases me to look after my dear friend, especially since he’s in this mess because of me.”
“None of this is your fault.”
“Let’s make a deal,” Marla said. “I will stop believing your injury is my fault as soon as you stop blaming yourself for every terrible thing that happens to the people you love.”
Jonah wished he could just flippantly agree to her bargain, but he couldn’t. Or maybe he just wouldn’t. It was easier to keep people at a distance than to lose them after they got too close.
“I see,” Marla said after a long pause. She pulled her hand free of Jonah’s loose grip, pressed the call button for a nurse, then settled back in her chair. And that was the end of the argument with Marla.
Against Dr. Sheridan’s medical advice, Jonah signed himself out of the hospital the following morning. “I suffered a much worse concussion the time I bounced face-first down the side of Kilimanjaro.” Jonah pointed to the scar on his face. “It’s how I got this.”
Dr. Sheridan snorted while Marla just shook her head.
“I’ll pull the car around front,” Marla told Jonah.
“I thought you couldn’t drive.”
Marla rolled her eyes. “Just because I choose not to drive doesn’t mean I don’t know how.”
“I beg to differ,” Jonah groused during the short drive home. Marla had taken corners too short and waited too long to apply the brakes as she approached stop signs and red lights.
“You’re not supposed to stopinthe crosswalk,” Jonah teased.
“Keep it up, wise guy.”
Over the next few days, Marla oversaw Jonah’s care, playing both nurse and psychologist to him. She also made his meals and herded cats, which is what she called policing his many visitors. Avery came over every evening after work and stayed until the sun went down, but Jonah talked him into going home to sleep in his own bed since he was still getting up several times a night.
His dreams were as turbulent as his sleep, replaying that fateful day of the IED explosion over and over again. To add insult to injury, his brain placed Avery in the Humvee with them, reminding Jonah what—or who—was at risk if he fucked up again.
“What the hell are you doing?” Marla asked when she entered his room one day toward the end of the week. “You’re not supposed to be on your phone.”
Jonah glanced up from his phone, then grinned from ear to ear. “Am I convalescing or attending a Reba McEntire concert?” He lived for her multiple wardrobe changes each day. The red satin, floor-length gown worthy of an Oscar appearance didn’t disappoint.
“Reba?” she scoffed. “You mean Celine Dion, right?” Marla crossed the room and snatched his phone away.
Jonah would’ve shaken his head, but he still had a headache. “This is Georgia, so Reba reigns supreme here.”