She sighed.
Hack rolled his eyes at her. “I see he’s going to take the blame for everything. Hey, Spike, I stubbed my toe earlier, you gonna feel guilty for that?”
Spike just crossed his arms over his chest, looking menacing.
“Right,” Hack said cheerfully, looking unperturbed by Spike’s surly attitude.
“Even though the bullet didn’t hit anything vital, it did do quite a bit of damage to your shoulder. We were able to save your arm when we operated but you’re looking at a lot of recovery time. So long as there are no signs of infection, you’ll probably be able to leave the hospital in about a week’s time. You’re going to need someone to take care of you at home since you won’t be able to use that arm. I know you don’t live here. I’m not sure what your plans are?”
“She’s coming home with me,” Spike told him.
“So you’re still prepared to care for her?” Hack asked.
Still? Had they discussed this already?
Spike grunted.
“One grunt for yes? Two for no?” Hack asked.
“Are you ever professional?” Spike asked.
“Very rarely. It gives me a rash.” Hack turned to her. “After you’re discharged, you’re going to need more time to recover, then physical therapy to help that arm. It might never be the same again.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t really thought that far ahead. What did that mean exactly?
“She likes to sew and make clothing,” Spike told him. “Will she be able to do that?”
Hack gave her a look filled with sympathy. “Hopefully.”
Pain flooded her. To not be able to make her creations . . . yeah, it hurt. But she had to be realistic here. She pushed the pain deep. Into that box.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Hack drawled the word, looking over at Spike for some sort of explanation.
Spike just frowned at her.
“Yeah, okay.”
“You don’t seem too upset by that. You’re probably in shock. It might hit you later,” Hack warned.
“No, I get it,” she reassured him, attempting a small smile. “I’m lucky to be alive. Anything else I can deal with, right? That’s what life is, just dealing with the punches and getting back up.”
Hack studied her. “How many punches have you had?”
“Enough.”
“And does anyone ever help you get back up?” Hack asked.
“I have friends back home,” she said defensively.
“Okay, that’s good. But this could hit you harder later and if you ever need to talk, I have the name of some good therapists.”
“I’ll be fine. Thank you.” She gave him a big smile.
Hack appeared puzzled. He turned to Spike, but Spike continued to stare at her. She swallowed. She had the feeling that Spike saw more than he was letting on.
“If you need them you can ask for them at any time. There are people here in the hospital who can come see you.”