“Is it normal for me to feel so sleepy?” I yawned. “I’ve been asleep for over two weeks.”
The nurse smiled. “You’ve been in a coma, honey. That’s not a regular sleep; your brain is recovering and the best way for it to do that is for you to—”
“Rest,” I finished with a grin. “I’ve got to get plenty of rest.”
“You’ve got it in one.”
I looked back to the hand Elliot was holding. He was squeezing it a little as he watched the nurse. He didn’t release his grip until she left the room.
“Hey,” I said, causing him to look up. “I’m okay, you know?”
“I know.”
He was lying, I could see that he was worried about me. It was in his eyes, and in Mum’s and Dad’s eyes too. I couldn’t imagine what it had been like for them to be told my memory was wiped. They must be feeling like they were walking on eggshells around me.
“Am I still in the ICU?”
“Yes,” Dad answered. “You’ll be moved to a different ward in a few days if your condition continues to improve.”
I nodded slowly, then I shifted and hissed when I felt a slight stinging in between my legs.
“Between my legs.” I winced. “What is that?”
Elliot lifted up the blanket before I finished speaking. He moved my gown up my legs, but he didn’t part my thighs. He relaxed and looked at me.
“Ye have a catheter . . . in you.”
Of all of the things for him to see when we were in such a situation . . . it made my face burn.
I groaned. “Bloody hell.”
“Hush now,” Mum said as she fixed my blanket back around me. “You were in a coma, a catheter is necessary. Don’t be embarrassed.”
“Easy for you to say.” I yawned. “Is the catheter bag in view?”
“It is for me,” Elliot answered. “I just noticed it.”
I groaned again. “Is it full?”
“Yup.” He winked. “Your kidneys are workin’ well it appears.”
“Pig.” I playfully scowled at his teasing. “I think I’m gonna close my eyes for a minute, if the doctor or nurse comes back in, tell them to take it out, okay? I can get to the bathroom by myself now that I’m awake, even if I have to crawl. I know I look broken, but I promise I’m not . . . or not entirely, anyway.”
Elliot leaned back in his chair, and his hand let go of mine so he could salute me.
“Anythin’ else, boss?”
“Yeah,” I murmured, closing my eyes. “Trim the beard, Chewie.”
The ache in my head faded away to nothing, allowing me to enjoy the low laughter of the people I loved most in the world as I drifted off into a deep, peaceful slumber.
CHAPTER TEN
ELLIOT
Twenty-one years old . . .
“Bailey McKenna!” I hollered up the stairs. “If you’re not down these bleedin’ steps in ten seconds or less, I’m gonna—”
“I’m comin’!” My sister’s screech cut me off. “I’m comin’, ye feckin’ ape. Keep your knickers on.”
“Give over,” Ma called from the kitchen. “The pair of ye.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled at the red-headed pixie as she descended the stairs, pulling her hair back into a half-bun thing. I didn’t understand it – half of her hair was tied up while the other half was down and curled.
“Your head looks like a pineapple with that hair.”
She shoved by me. “Like you’d know anythin’ about style.”
I followed her into the kitchen where our parents were eating lunch.
“What’re ye talkin’ about?” I quizzed as I held my hands out. “I am style. D’ye not see what I’m wearin’?”
I had on a standard grey Calvin Klein tracksuit, paired with brand-new white Nike runners. I looked fresh.
The kid barely glanced my way. “Please, ye’ve got common MW style.”
I blinked. “Common what style?”
“MW.” She grinned, then mouthed the words “man whore”.
I never wanted those words to leave my baby sister’s mouth again.
I glared at her. “Let those words slip past your lips again, and I’m staplin’ them together.”
“Ma! Elliot’s threatenin’ me!”
“Elliot, don’t threaten your sister.”
I grinned. “Sorry, baby.”
My sister scowled. “I’m not a baby, ye hav’te stop callin’ me that!”
“Ye’ll always be me little baby, baby.”
Bailey cringed. “Whatever, are ye ready to go?”
“Am I ready?” I repeated on a laugh. “I’ve been waitin’ for you the last half an hour.”
“Ye were rushin’ me,” she said, scowling. “When ye rush me, it stresses me out and I move slower. Fact.”
“The only fact is you’re doin’ me head in. Get out into me car. Now.”
“You’re not the boss of me!” she huffed, as she did exactly what I’d told her to do.
She shouted her goodbyes to our parents, then stormed out of the house with me following behind. I smiled as I trotted along after her. This was typical behaviour with my sister; she acted like I was the bane of her existence, but in reality she loved me and always wanted to hang out with me. I had always been close with her, but when we moved from our home in Dublin to London, she didn’t take the transition very well and our bond deepened. I was seven years older than her and I had always been protective of her – and that instinct only grew as she got older.