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get
too real. I have a new image to add to my nightmares—Miguel dying
just like Lev. It doesn’t matter if he was a stranger. He was a
kid, someone who deserved a chance he never got.
    Jimmie reaches for my hand, and he’s
trembling. “I can’t take you holding all this in, keeping it away
from me, Lizzie. Scott wondered if you might need a psych
evaluation, and—“
    “ I’m not crazy!” I explode,
yanking my hand from his. I start to say something else when the
door opens again, admitting a beautiful nurse with long, straight
black hair and dark eyes that first flash toward me and then settle
on Jimmie. The nurse’s uniform does nothing to diminish her
hour-glass figure. From the first moment I see her, I realize three
things. First, she’s achingly beautiful, with her dark, exotic
features. Second, she’s got that aura which seems to hint at her
being an angel. Third, Jimmie can’t take his eyes off her—and she’s
pretty focused on him as well.
    She looks from Jimmie to me and back again.
“Is everything all right?”
    “ Fine,” we both say, but
looking at Jimmie’s wistful expression, I realize suddenly he means
it more than I do. What in the hell is going on here? If Jimmie
only knew he was attracted to an angel. Would that make a
difference? Nope, he doesn’t do emotions, regardless of what he
says. But he goes through the motions just fine. And this one is
just that—fine.
    As she walks towards us, the papers she
carries slip from her hands and tumble to the floor. Immediately,
Jimmie shoots from his chair and grabs them before she can even
bend to retrieve them. He presses them into her hands.
    “ Thank you.” She offers a
smile to me. “I came to have you both sign the discharge paperwork
so that Lizzie can go home and get some rest.” Her voice is
seductively rough, and I struggle the with texture of
it.
    Thank God , I think, grateful to be getting out of Dodge. I reach for
them and patiently pretend to listen to the discharge instructions,
but it’s pretty hard with Jimmie over there going gaga over
Florence Nightingale. I shake my head. I’ve never seen Jimmie so
shamelessly taken in by a female before. Then again, she is really
beautiful, so I can’t question his taste on that score.
    Jimmie leans close and signs in all the right
spots, watching like a love-sick puppy as she separates the forms
and hands us the copies. When she’s done, she offers a smile to
both of us.
    “ I guess that’s it unless
you have any questions.”
    “ What if Lizzie needs
attention? An emergency or something?” His voice is fast and
desperate, as though he really doesn’t want her to
leave.
    She points to the paperwork. “Oh, the number
is right there, just in case.”
    “ Ah. Well, could you write
your name just in case, so I’ll have someone I can talk
to.”
    I shoot him a nasty look,
thinking, it’s a concussion, Jimmie, not a
terminal illness. There aren’t going to be any side-effects. Still, I shake my head and watch as the nurse
jots her name, Theresa Whitmore, at the top.
    Then she is gone. But that doesn’t stop
Jimmie from staring at the door even after she has walked through
it. It’s like I have ceased to exist. Everyone has except for the
beautiful Theresa. Gritting my teeth, I wave my hand in front of
Jimmie’s eyes, trying to prompt him out of his nice little reverie
back into reality even thought I much prefer the thought that I can
somehow escape the chaos and Jimmie’s wrath.
    Jimmie blinks and looks at the clothes he’s
brought, sitting on the window sill. “I’m going to go chat with Ms.
Whitmore while you get dressed.”
    “ Okay.” I shouldn’t mind
this sudden distraction. After all, she’s taking Jimmie’s mind of
the grief he wants to give me for running to Knoxville and almost
getting myself killed. I sure have a knack for things, don’t I?
Still, nobody has to tell me twice to get this stupid hospital gown
off. Although I hate the outfit Jimmie has