Naomi tried to recall the memory. Failed. And shook her head.
“Do you remember what you had for breakfast?”
She tried again to recollect the events of the day, but she came up blank again. The momentary calm Sam had engendered with his questions evaporated. “I don’t know. I can't remember anything about today.” That she was powerless to make her brain perform even rudimentary tasks left her feeling utterly terrified. Was the shooting random? Had someone targeted her? If they had targeted her and they learned she was still alive, would they come back? And if they did come back to finish what they started, how could she protect herself when she didn’t even remember who it was who wanted her dead?
Naomi knew she couldn’t stay here. She was a sitting duck in the hospital where anyone could wander in and out. She needed to go home. Her place had an amazing security system, plus she’d have her gun on her. If the doctor wouldn’t agree to discharge her, she would simply do it herself. It certainly didn’t bother her to sign herself out against medical advice, she’d done it before, and she’d do it again. She just needed to be in her own home right now.
“Whoa. What are you doing?” Sam asked as she threw back the covers.
“I'm going home,” she muttered, unsure if her legs would support her.
“You're not going anywhere.” Sam physically held her down.
“I am,” she contradicted as firmly as she could manage while the world shimmied and wobbled all around her.
“Naomi, you can't remember anything that happened today. That’s not a good thing. You shouldn’t be going anywhere. You need to stay right here where the doctors can monitor you.”
“I'm going,” she repeated adamantly. “They can't keep me here against my will.”
“Naomi, you can't leave,” Sam said disapprovingly. “You need to be observed. You have a head injury.Anotherhead injury.”
“I'm not staying here. I'm going home. They can't make me stay.” Naomi took a deep breath and stood. Her knees buckled immediately. She would have thumped into the too shiny hospital floor if Sam hadn’t wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her up against his hard, lean body.
“Still think going home is a good idea?” His warm breath whooshed in her ear sending shivers up and down her body that had nothing to do with her current medical condition.
“The five minutes are up,” the doctor announced re-entering the room. “I really need to check her out now.” He cast a wary glance at Sam as though he wasn't altogether sure that Sam wasn't going to hit him.
Pushing at Sam’s chest until he relented and lowered her to sit on the side of the bed, she shot the doctor a smile. “Thank you, you can check me out so you can discharge me.”
The doctor’s disapproving face matched Sam’s, and he opened his mouth to no doubt attempt to dissuade her, but it wasn't going to do any good. She wanted her house. She needed to feel like she was back in control. She was going home whether anyone agreed with her or not.
* * * * *
2:46 P.M.
The glass slipped from her hand and shattered into a thousand shards at her feet.
“That’s just great,” Nicole Carmichael muttered.
The mess on the ground summed up her life right about now. She was almost thirty-eight years old, going through a messy divorce, one kid she was probably going to lose custody of because her almost ex was manipulating everything, and his shenanigans had cost her her job. No job meant no income. No income meant no way to pay the bills. No way to pay the bills meant she wasn't an ideal candidate to be their child’s primary caregiver. Hence the reason she’d taken this job.
A waitress.
Not that there was anything wrong with being a waitress. She’d been one while going through college, but it was a real comedown after her high-flying corporate position. She had loved that job. That her soon-to-be ex was responsible for taking it from her was just another reason to hate him. And there were so many reasons to choose from.
Topping her list was that he was a lying, cheating piece of scum.
It really didn’t seem fair thathehad been the one to have an affair and ruin their marriage, and yetshewas the one who was going to wind up losing everything.
She knew complaining didn’t help things. She may have lost the job she loved, yet she was lucky to have this job. And the café did allow her to work great hours so she could pick her ten-year-old son up from school each day. Dropping him off at his dad’s house was torture, but at least she knew he was safe. Whatever problems Hunter had, he loved his son.
Plus, she had pretty much already hit rock bottom, so the only direction to go from here was up. Right?
Nicole really hoped that was true because she had basically reached her limit.
Crouching down, she began to gather the larger glass shards. She knew she should pop indoors and grab the broom, but it was almost three, and she was supposed to pick up Sean in thirty minutes. She’d throw whatever she could pick up in the dumpster, then head inside, collect her things, and go spend a couple of hours with her little boy.
“Ouch,” she gasped a moment later when one of the sharp pieces of broken glass sliced into the palm of her hand. “I didn’t think my day could get any worse.”