I'd Rather Not

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  Her brows rose.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  I grinned. “Because you wouldn’t be here with me if something was wrong with her. And even if you were, you definitely wouldn’t be smiling.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You and your deductive reasoning.”

  I shrugged.

  “She’s been in her own suite for about two hours now,” she said. “She woke up about twenty minutes ago and heard that you were being written up for failure to approve your ‘vacation’ time.”

  My lips twitched.

  Why did that not surprise me?

  Jackson was a dick, after all.

  “They moved you to your own room because Octomom was finally moved off the floor and to maternity,” she said. “She had eight boys, by the way. Can you imagine?”

  I shook my head.

  “Eight boys…at once? That is scary as hell,” I murmured. “I watched a couple of kids for a buddy a couple of weeks ago. I thought I was going to die.”

  Mercy snickered.

  “Usually, other people’s kids aren’t as fun as your own,” she promised. “But your own kids are completely different. It’s like you can deal with shit from them that you would never tolerate from anybody else’s kids.”

  I could imagine.

  I closed my eyes and tried to shift on the bed, but quickly realized how bad of an idea that was when pain rocketed up my spine.

  “Ow,” I groaned.

  Mercy stood up and leaned over me, reaching for something at my side.

  “You’re on a pump for pain,” she said, handing me the button. “They showed me how to work it. Apparently, they’re not supposed to do that seeing as you’re supposed to be detecting your own pain level and pressing your own button accordingly, but you took forever to wake up and they didn’t want you to be in too much pain.”

  “How often can I press it?” I asked, clicking it multiple times.

  There was a snort from the doorway, and Sierra, Mercy’s daughter, was standing there rolling her eyes as she laughed on my behalf.

  “You can press it once every fifteen minutes, I think,” Mercy said. “Hey, Sierra. Are you done?”

  “Yeah, Mom,” Sierra said. “This place is jam-packed. I should’ve probably just gone to a different floor to do the work.”

  “What are you doing?” I wondered as Mercy started to gather her things.

  “Nursing shit,” she muttered darkly. “I have to come up here and do patient charting before my clinical tomorrow. I have to know all this bullshit and study all their stupid patient history before tomorrow’s shift. Nurse Asshole is the one I’m pairing with tomorrow, too. It’s going to be so much fun…not.”

  My lips twitched at that.

  Sierra Nevada Spurlock was nothing like her mother, Mercy.

  She was her own special brand of hilarious, and I loved the hell out of her. She said what she meant, didn’t beat around the bush, and definitely had no qualms pissing people off.

  It was a lot like her father, actually, only in female form.

  Miller Spurlock—who happened to be Trance Spurlock’s brother—was the exact same way.

  I liked them all.

  “I’m not sure you should call me Nurse Asshole,” someone said from behind Sierra.

  Sierra looked at the woman.

  “Are you not an asshole?” she asked inquisitively.

  “Well, yeah,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean that you need to say it at my place of work.”

  Sierra shrugged unrepentantly.

  Mercy sighed. “Ladies.”

  Both ‘ladies’ turned to Mercy with looks of chagrin on their faces.

  Mercy turned to me. “Pace, this is your nurse, Hastings. Hastings is good friends with Sierra. Hastings, I just showed him how to use his pain pump. He didn’t remember you explaining it to him.”

  I blinked.

  That was the first time I’d heard that anyone besides Mercy had explained it to me.

  Sierra came up to the bed and looked at me.

  “You’ll be well taken care of,” she said. “Nurse Asshole is a good one, even if she’s an asshole. She’s a likable asshole, though.”

  The likable asshole sighed. “I’m not sure that you should be introducing me to my patients like that, either.”

  “I’ll be with you tomorrow,” she said. “But I have to go learn all the meds you’re on. And you have quite a bit of extensive medical history I have to work my way through. Thanks for that, by the way.”

  I laughed.

  “I didn’t tell you to choose me as your patient,” I said, eyes closing as whatever the fuck was in that pain pump started to course through my veins.

  “It was either you or my cousin,” she said. “And Oakley has a longer medical history and about twelve more medications than you have. So, the choice was easy.”

  I gave her a thumb up.

  “Before y’all go, will one of y’all give me that keychain with the bunny on it?” I asked, opening my palm.

  With my eyes now closed, I couldn’t tell who was the one that completed the task for me, but I thanked them all nonetheless.

  “Thanks for being here,” I yawned. “You didn’t have to, but it means a lot.”

  “I kept your aunt up to date on your surgery,” Mercy said. “She told me to tell you to call her when you were feeling better, and she says the next time you go into surgery like this, make sure that she can get a flight out.”

  I chuckled softly.

  “It’s not my fault she lives in the remotest part of Alaska,” I muttered. “And the only way to get there is to take a damn small plane that runs only once a week.”

  I felt someone kiss me on the cheek.

  “Call me if you need me,” she said. “I better get this one fed and home to study before she loses her shit.”

  I snorted. “Too late. She’s already lost it.”

  “Very funny,” Sierra drawled. “Bye. I’ll be sure to have a nice, scalding hot sponge bath for you tomorrow.”

  I gave her a thumb up, causing her to laugh.

  When I opened my eyes next, it was to find my room empty.

  Which sucked.

  But that was the way of my life.

  I’d be more surprised at this point if somebody was there.

  Bonus points if they were here for me, and not for a family friend, but just so happened to know the guy in the other room…aka me.

  Chapter 6

  Look at you, being awake and stuff! You are reading words, and probably aren’t even stabbing anybody at the moment. Way to adult!

  -Text from Oakley to Pace

  Oakley

  I blinked my eyes and grinned at my dad, who had his arms crossed so tightly across his chest that he looked downright mean.

  “Luke,” Trance said stiffly.

  Luke was the chief of police for the Kilgore Police Department and a man that my father respected quite a bit.

  “Trance.” He offered him his hand. “How’s your girl?”

  I gave Luke a thumb up. “I’m doing good.”

  “You are?” he asked skeptically.

  I pointed down to the bottom of the bed, to the railing that was holding my catheter bag.

  “I’m peeing,” I told him.

  Luke blinked at me, looked at the bag, then looked back at me. “Ahh, that’s good?”

  I nodded. “Peeing means my kidney that Pace donated to me is working.”

  Luke nodded his head in understanding. “Gotcha. That’s good news, then.”

  It was. It was very good news.

  According to the doctor, one in three patients could possibly not have a functioning kidney for weeks. If that were to happen, then I’d have to go back on dialysis.

  Luckily the kidney that Pace so graciously donated to me was working minor miracles.

  I loved my kidney already.

  “You like Sergeant Jackson
on your force?” My father didn’t beat around the bush.

  Luke frowned. “Overall, he’s not well-liked. However, he’s a good police officer, and he has one of the best ratings in the department. Why?”

  “Because I’m about to go kick his ass, and I was wondering how attached you were to him,” my father replied.

  Luke frowned. “What did he do?”

  I liked that he didn’t immediately get all defensive. For my father to get mad, he had a damn good reason. For him to threaten violence? That was something my father didn’t do unless shit was serious.

  He was a cop as well. He was very careful and contained because he had to be.

  “My kid was dying,” Dad said stiffly. “They gave her days, not even weeks, to live. I slowly watched her, day by day, waste away into a shell of the kid I once knew. And Pace Vineyard answered our prayers. He donated his kidney and risked his life for my kid, and he gets written up at work for it?”

  Luke stiffened. “What do you mean he got written up at work?”

  “I was listening to him talk to another officer downstairs,” Ford said from his lean against the wall next to my bed. “He was very vocal about the fact that he didn’t like Pace, and that it was only a matter of time before he was off the force. If he got two more write-ups, he could let him go since he was still in his probationary period.”

  Luke’s head dropped back, and he studied the ceiling.

  “He was having this conversation where people could hear him, in a public setting?” he asked, laughing humorlessly. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  “He needs to be fired,” my father told him bluntly.

  Luke sighed. “I wish I could. I really do. I’ve had so many complaints on him that it’s getting to the point where something should be done. But his brother is the mayor, and his niece is the goddamn department shrink. His parents are very important donors to the fallen officer fund, and have so much reach in Kilgore, as well as the state of Texas, that it’s creepy. If I fired him, they’d just find a way to fire me.”

  My father growled.

  “Then fix it so that Pace isn’t in his department anymore,” Ford suggested.

  Luke’s eyes went thoughtful for a few long moments, then he grinned. “I got a new, experimental department. I’ve been moving some of my more troublesome officers there. Not that they’re bad officers or anything, but they’ve definitely found themselves in some hot water to get to this particular department. But, since I have full confidence that this new branch of the department will work, it’s not a career death sentence. It’s a working department that I think will bring a lot of revenue to the city.”

  “What is it?” Ford wondered.

  “It’s a motorcycle patrol unit,” Luke answered, then frowned. “Shit, can he ride?”

  “I can ride.”

  Pace’s deep voice had us all turning toward the doorway where Pace, in his hospital gown, pulling his IV pole, was standing.

  I looked down at Pace’s prosthetics and burst out laughing.

  “What the hell are those on your…blades?” I finally asked, getting myself under control rather quickly.

  It hurt to laugh, I knew if I continued to do it, I’d be hurting something fierce later.

  Pace looked down at his feet.

  “Sierra, the nursing student from hell, said that I had to wear non-slip socks,” he said. “They were department policy.”

  He’d slipped his non-slip socks over the blades of his prosthetics.

  That was why I hadn’t heard him move.

  Sneaky man.

  “Pace, I’m assuming,” Luke said.

  Pace’s eyes went from me to Luke, and he let the hand go that was holding onto the IV pole, then offered it to Luke.

  Luke was the one to step forward and take his hand.

  “Pace Vineyard,” Pace said stiffly. “And I’d appreciate it when the next time my career is being discussed, that it be discussed with me.”

  Luke’s lips twitched. “You were next on my agenda.”

  “The answer is yes. I can ride a motorcycle,” he said. “Everything was difficult at first, but now, I can do pretty much anything. It just requires me to do it a little differently than I did before the accident.”

  Luke crossed his arms over his chest.

  “You have no problem entering into an experimental new program?” Luke asked. “It might not last. If that happens, we might not be able to fit you back into your previous spot.”

  I shrugged. “I was already considering leaving for another department anyway.”

  Luke scowled. “Don’t.”

  Pace shrugged. “I do what I need to do to make sure that my life is best for me, not others.”

  Luke couldn’t refute that logic, so he leaned his shoulder against the wall much like Ford was doing and started talking.

  “The motorcycle patrol unit works for quite a few other agencies,” he said. “I don’t foresee it as going badly. The only thing I can see as being a problem is all the loners that are being thrust into the unit being forced to take on a partner. So far, there are five officers. Each one will work three different shifts, four out of seven days a week. Shifts change every week, but they are only during the daylight hours, and they’re ten-hour shifts instead of twelve.”

  Pace nodded. “How many more weeks do you have until the unit is up and running?”

  “Five and a half-ish,” Luke answered.

  I smiled at his words.

  I had the same amount, according to my doctor, until I was released. Granted, it may take a few more months after that to be back to my usual self, but I’d take that.

  I would also take the lifetime of taking meds and having check-ups if it meant that I was going to be somewhat healthy again.

  “That’s a good amount of time,” Luke said. “That should work out well then. You will be ready to come back to work at about the same time this unit gets started. I’m waiting on the motorcycles to arrive still, and uniforms will have to be ordered since these particular ones aren’t the kind that the uniform retailer will keep in stock.”

  Pace looked worried for a minute.

  “Why wouldn’t they keep these in stock?” he asked.

  Luke smiled. “They’re not your typical uniform.”

  “Why not?”

  They talked back and forth for a bit, and I found myself closing my eyes, listening to the pleasant, deep rumble of Pace’s voice as I fell into slumber.

  When I next woke, everyone was gone.

  At least, I thought everyone was gone.

  I turned my head slowly on the pillow, sweeping my eyes over the room in a slow arc.

  At first, I missed him.

  He was quiet where he sat in the chair. And so still.

  But my eyes brought me back over his unmoving form, and a small smile kicked up my lips when I saw him watching me.

  “Your parents and brothers went to grab some food and some shut-eye,” he said.

  “They haven’t left the hospital in two days.” I smiled, then frowned. “I need a shower in the worst way.”

  His eyes skimmed over the tubes and lines snaking out of me.

  “Can you take a shower?” he asked.

  I thought about that for a moment.

  “They said that I could get up on the second day…technically, today is the second day,” I murmured. “I was just scared to get up.”

  He grinned and stood up, bracing his arms on the side of the chair he was occupying and hefting his rather large bulk out of the uncomfortable looking chair.

  “Let me go ask a nurse what you are and aren’t allowed to do,” he said.

  I stopped him with a raise of one hand.

  “I have a call button,” I said. “Watch and learn.”

  He rolled his eyes as I pressed the button and talked to the nurse.

  She came in moments later with a smile on her face.

  Her eyes went from me
to Pace, and I felt stuff inside of me clench in anger when her eyes lingered on his tall form standing beside my bed.

  “You’re ready to finally get up?” she asked.

  I was sure that she hadn’t intended it to sound rude, but it had.

  Which made me grit my teeth.

  “Yes,” I said. “I was wondering what I was and wasn’t allowed to pull out. I’d love to take a real shower. I don’t think I’ve had one of those in weeks.”

  Embarrassed by my lack of shower, I shot a guilty look Pace’s way.

  Pace only grinned. “I think I have you topped up on that department. I went months without one when this happened.”

  He gestured down to his legs.

  His legs that were now encased in sweatpants—sans non-slip socks.

  I looked at his sweatpants with envy.

  “Can I put some sweatpants on when I’m done?” I asked the nurse.

  The nurse, her nametag read Lacy, nodded her head.

  “You can,” she agreed. “But I do have to ask that when you urinate, that you do so in the little hat in the toilet. That way we can still measure your input and output to make sure that everything is going okay.”

  I would

  I so would.

  “So that means that I can get my catheter out?” I asked hopefully.

  The nurse grinned. “Yep. Do you want your hubby to stay or leave?”

  I looked over at Pace with a grin to see he was smiling just as big. “This isn’t my husband. This is the man that donated his kidney to me. He’s a patient…he’s actually in the next room over.”

  Understanding dawned on the nurse, then she scowled at him. “We’ve been looking for you for the last thirty minutes.”

  He gestured to the seat. “I told Hastings that I was going to be here.”

  Nurse Lacy rolled her eyes. “Hastings went to lunch. That’s gotta be why we didn’t know.”

  “Anyway.” Pace looked at me. “I’ll make a loop around the unit and come back in when all your tubes and stuff are gone.”

  With that, he left the room.

  “Whew, he’s hot,” Nurse Lacy breathed when he was finally out of earshot.

  I silently agreed.

  Pace was more than hot.

  Ten minutes later, I was sitting up on the side of the bed, mostly tubeless, wondering how the hell I was going to make myself stand up.