Chapter Sixteen
Two Days Later
Miami stood besideGiles’s hospital bed, trying not to laugh at the cartoon sheets covering his heavily bandaged chest. She was certain the sheets were a punishment for his surly behavior, but she kept the observation to herself.
“Any idea when you’re getting out of this place? No offense, but it’s a lot. Hell, the colors alone are enough to give me a headache. And all the smiling… Christ.”
Miami was surprised by Essex’s remarks. She considered him the more lighthearted of the two, but even she had to admit Dr. Cecelia Barnes’s clinic, and the adjoining hospital was a lot to take in. The bright murals on the walls seemed to change each time she’d been here to visit—she was still trying to figure out how that happened. Before Giles could answer the question, CeCe Barnes bounced into the room.
“I hear you hurt Bethany’s feelings this morning.”
To his credit, Giles looked slightly sheepish.
“I didn’t hurt her feelings. Anybody dressed like a clown bouncing into rooms at the crack ass of dawn should be used to being growled at. Good Lord, who wants to listen to all that balloon squeaking while she makes dopey animals, anyway? Is she on loan from the circus?”
“Believe it or not, she’s a psychologist, and most of our patients love her. You’d be surprised how healing her chats and balloon critters are for our patients who have experienced trauma.”
Miami had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the stricken look on his face.
“Damn. I didn’t really hurt her feelings, did I?”
CeCe laughed and shook her head.
“I swear Doms are terrible patients. The only people who are worse are Doms who are former Special Forces. I’d like to know who developed the program our military uses to convince their operatives they have to be tougher than the average bear because it’s damned effective.” She paused for several seconds, scanning the iPad she’d carried into the room. “And no, you didn’t hurt her feelings. I was just messing with you. She’d scanned the patient list, saw that you’d suffered a gunshot wound, and didn’t check your age.”
“Bet she was surprised when she walked in on Mr. Personality.” Essex was leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the bed, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Giles lifted his good arm as far as the wires and tubes would allow and flipped Essex the bird.
“Now, boys, behave. I swear I have less trouble with crazy parents—and believe me, I’ve dealt with some real winners.” Setting the electronic device aside, she went to the sink and washed her hands, then returned and removed the bandages from Giles’s shoulder. Miami didn’t know what she expected, but the angry wound and perfectly placed stitches were more than enough to make her head spin. Darkness was closing in from her peripheral view—the small circle of reality was shrinking at an alarming rate.
“Miami? Love? Are you okay?”
Why does Giles sound like he’s underwater?
“Shit.”
Miami heard Essex’s exclamation, but she couldn’t seem to turn her head to find out what was wrong. She felt an odd sensation of falling, but it only lasted a second before she realized she was floating in the air.
“Put your head between your knees, baby.”
How does he think I’m going to do that when I’m floating in mid-air? I feel like Cleopatra. She was carried around, right? Wait. Was she sitting on a throne? Maybe Aladdin.
“Does she always chatter when she’s in La La Land?”
CeCe’s question made her sit up so quickly, she had to put her head back between her knees to keep the room from spinning again. It took several deep breaths for Miami to feel she’d regained a sense of equilibrium.
“Please tell me I wasn’t talking out loud again. Damn, that’s so embarrassing. I swear I was pretty normal before I spent all those months living alone in Belize.” She took another deep breath and rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the tension. “Good grief. If I’d bought a damned television, this wouldn’t be happening.”
“Riiiggghhhttt. Your brain would be addled like the rest of us.” CeCe shook her head as she used a pen-light to check Miami’s pupils. “Talking to yourself won’t be a problem for your Doms, but you may want to learn to censor if you’re angry. Consider that a bit of advice from the voice of experience.”
Miami relaxed against Essex’s chest, sighing when his arms wrapped around her. Looking across the small room to where Giles was watching her as though he thought she might shatter, she gave him a small smile.
“I’m sorry. You’re the one who was injured, and I’m stealing all the attention. Fuck a fat fairy. I’m pathetic.”
Giles’s expression went from concerned to thunderous in the time it took her to blink.
“We’re going to have a long conversation about the power of words, Miami. You are not to talk negatively about yourself—ever. Your soul listens to that nonsense, you know.”
What could have been interpreted as scolding didn’t seem that way at all. His words of wisdom were rooted in a level of caring she hadn’t expected to experience again after losing her parents.