MacKenzie Fire(52)

The nurse stops trying to touch my arm. “Are you threatening me?” she ask. “Because I can call for security.”

“Oh, it’s not a threat, I’m making you a promise. Touch me and you will feel the pain, guaranteed.” I stop messing with the tape and stare her down. “You can’t keep me here and you can’t force treatment on me. I know my rights. So either you help me get out of this, or you get the hell out of my room. That’s your choice, take it or leave it.”

See, what’s happening here, I think, is that I fought off a mountain lion and lived to tell about it. I am badassery personified. On top of that, everyone thinks the stuff that went down was Ian’s fault, which is totally not fair. I mean, maybe it was kind of his fault, but not in a bad way.

The things that happened to me today were awesome in an I-faced-death-and-kicked-its-ass kind of way, and I have Ian to thank for that, not to mention the bond with Candy. I feel like I need to tell him right now how grateful I am before anyone else gets near him and fills his head with nonsense that makes him feel bad. Today I was the best version of myself - strong, brave, resourceful. I never would have met that me without Ian there to bring her out.

“I’m going to call for security,” the nurse says, leaving us in the room.

“Go ahead!” I yell after her. “Tattletale!”

“Candice, I’m really worried about you,” Andie says, coming around the bed. “Seriously, would you please just calm down and leave that alone?”

“Hand me some paper towels,” I say, ignoring her. I have all the tape off and just the needle to get out. I’m afraid this sucker is going to bleed. The needle looks really thick.

I lean down and look at it closer. What is that, a frigging garden hose they put in my arm? Probably that rude nurse picked the biggest one they have because she’s jealous of my hair. Wench.

“Here.” Andie hands me a wad of towels from the bathroom and one gauze pad she found somewhere and pulled out of its wrapping.

I push the whole pile of it against my arm, using my stomach to press on it as I slide the needle out with my free hand. And damn, does it burn like … ooooh … Fire! My arm is on fire! Gah!

I drop the needle on the floor and do a little jig to try and ease the pain. Andie waits patiently as I do the cha-cha, the one-woman abbreviated tango, and a short waltz. It does wonders for the pain.

As I hold my arm up and put direct pressure against the garden hose hole with my opposite hand, I smile at Andie. And I keep on grinning, right through the fire burning up my arm and the nausea that threatens to overtake me. I swallow, fighting back against the bile that keeps trying to come up. “See? No big deal.”

“You are insane,” she says, almost smiling. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” I shrug as I lean against the side of the bed, totally casual and in control — or so I want her to think because I don’t want her trying to force me to stay here without Ian. “I’m just done with being here, and I don’t like it when people don’t listen to me.”

“Sweetie … you were attacked by a cougar. You have stitches in your arm and a big lump on your head.” She looks at the bandage on my bicep. “You need to be careful or you could get an infection. Those cat nails are very dirty.”

“So? I’ll take antibiotics.”

Andie looks up at the bag. “That’s what you were doing before you pulled that thing out.”

I look up at the bag and then at the needle that’s dripping liquid on the floor near my foot. “Oh.” My arm burns even more just seeing all that germ killer going to waste.

Andie sighs. “I’m sure we can get you some pills. I just want you to stop and take a breath and tell me what’s going on.” She shakes her head. “Ever since you met Ian, it seems like you’ve gone off the rails.”

We both stop speaking for a while. The silence stretches to the point that it’s becoming awkward. I have to say something.

“Ian has nothing to do with it.”

She stares me down until I cave.

“Okay, maybe indirectly he has something to do with it. Very indirectly.”

“Tell me.” She sits on the edge of the bed next to me.

It takes me a while to explain to her what’s going through my mind and my heart. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, the way I feel like killing her brother-in-law one second and humping his leg the next. How do I put that into words that don’t make me sound nuts?

“I don’t know. He just … he gets me all riled up. And he makes me laugh. He challenges me. I do things with him that I’ve never done before. I like it. I like this new me that I am with him.”

“Oh.” She says softly.

And then even more softly she says. “Oh my.”

Fear trickles into my brain and my heart. Then the idea that I should be offended. “Oh my? What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie. You meant something with that oh my. What were you thinking? Because if it’s something bad about Ian, I’m going to be mad at you.”

“No, no, nothing bad. Well …” she pauses “…nothing too bad.”

I jab her in the rib with my healthy elbow. “Out with it.”