Her forehead creases. "Do you want some pain medicine?"
I shake my head. "No, I hate to take it. It makes me loopy."
She follows me down the hall toward my bedroom. She stands in the doorway as I sit down on the edge of the bed.
She hovers by the door, no doubt debating whether she should leave me or not. "The discharge note says I need to check on you every few hours, but I'll be quiet and try not to disturb you. All you need to do is holler if you need me."
Guilt fills me, and I shake my head. "Ella, you don't—"
But she doesn't let me finish. Instead, she holds her hand up in front of her. "Logan, just let me do this. It's nice to be needed. So if you won't do it for yourself, do it for me."
As soon as I nod, she smiles and then walks out of the bedroom. I lie back on the bed on top of the covers and stare at the white ceiling. But for the first time in a long time, I'm not thinking about Noah or the bombing. No, I'm thinking about the girl with the big brown eyes who’s insisting on taking care of me.