“Can we not talk about it…for now?” I ask. I’m barely keeping it together, and just minutes into our reunion, I’m not ready to tackle anything that happened before this accident.
He’s taken aback by my abrupt request, but he agrees.
“Do you remember the accident?” I approach the side of the bed. He’s obviously still shaken up about the news I just told him because he doesn’t answer me. “Ben?”
“What? Oh, no. I mean, some parts, yes.”
“Do you have any questions? The nurse told me a brief version of what witnesses saw.”
He shakes his head, closing his eyes. The medication is kicking in. “No, I’m not ready to think about that yet.”
“Get some rest. I’ll be here.”
“No, go home. You need rest too.”
“Go to sleep, Benjamin.”
“Look who’s being stubborn now.”
We both smile tiredly, and while the medication takes him under, I watch over him, needing to care for him.
***
“Okay, Mrs. Scott, thank you for your statement. When can we expect your husband’s?”
“He’s asleep right now. Maybe stop by later?”
The tall, lanky officer nods. “Good day, ma’am.”
After he leaves, I walk down toward the reception area, seeing Rose, a senior nurse who is always smiling.
“Hi, Rose. Have the faxes gone through?”
“Feel free to check.” She gestures behind her.
I enter her space, walking up to the machine. “Thank you for this. His job is so demanding.”
“Of course, everyone knows how important he is. That fax machine is barely used. Feel free to use it while you’re here.”
I pick up the forms Tiffany faxed over that need signatures from Benjamin. There have to be over twenty forms here…Jeez.
“Thank you, Rose.”
I head back to his room, knowing he has to be awake by now. It’s been over twelve hours. I find the door already open, a nurse by his bedside. Seeing me, he raises a brow.
“You said you’d be next to me.”
I roll my eyes, strolling in. “And how are you today, my love?”
His quirky, curly haired nurse scoffs. “Cranky.”
“Is that so?”
Benjamin smirks at me, dragging a hand through his hair. He still looks like a model, even with the cuts and bruises. The nurse checks his temperature, inspects his wounds, and sets a tray of food down in front of him. He grimaces, staring down at the food in dismay.
“Eat up,” I say, earning a scowl.
“I’d like to see you eat this stuff,” he mutters as the nurse shuts the door behind her.
