Chapter 52
Chapter Fifty-Two
J
I wake up with a start. Sunlight creeps under the drawn curtains over the glass doors.
A tingle lingers on my lips.
Oh, my gosh.
I was having a dirty dream about Finn of all people.
My eyes flash to the side of the bed where Finn was sleeping with his back to me last night.
But this isn’t Finn’s bed.
I raise my hand and notice that a plastic tube moves with me.
“What the…” A heart monitor stands at my left, and a bag hangs upside down from an IV pole, dripping fluid into my body.
This isn’t Finn’s room.
“Oh. Oh. Finally, you’re up.” A frazzled woman pops to her feet. It’s Martina. “How are you feeling?”
“What…” My eyes dart between the heart monitor and the IV line. “Why am I in the hospital?”
“Early this morning, your heart…” She flails her hands as she explains. “You had a serious pal… pal…”
“Palpitation?”
“Yes.” She snaps her fingers. “I called the doctor. The one with the glasses. He came right away and said you must go to the hospital.”
“Really?” I try to sit up.
Martina runs to help me. She fluffs the pillows behind my back and holds my arm, supporting me as I wiggle my way to a sitting position.
“Finn did not want you to go. He said it is not safe.” She shakes her head forlornly. “But the doctor said you could die, so he took you here.”
At the mention of Finn, a zing of electricity shoots straight between my legs. I press my thighs together. No one knows what happened in that dream, so why do I feel like Martina will take one look at my lips and know everything?
“W-where’s Finn now?” I stammer.
“He left.” Martina waves her hand flippantly.
“Left? Like… to go to school or…”
“The three of them have gone to find their mother.” She speaks in a rush and looks me over. “Would you like something to eat? I need to call your doctor. Ay-ya, where did I put my phone?”
“When did Finn leave?”
“This morning.”
“This morning?” I study the sunlight beneath the drapes, making mental calculations.
I went to bed close to dawn. Vivid dreams like the one I had with Finn usually occur during the last cycles of REM sleep.
I had heart palpitations after the dream ended, which means Finn wasn’t even in the house—no, he probably wasn’t even in the city when my subconscious was grinding into his body and sucking on his mouth like a cotton-candy-flavored chocolate bar.
I breathe out in relief.
“The doctor’s not picking up,” Martina cries. Pacing in front of me, she plants a hand on her head and continues calling.
“It’s okay. He’s probably with a patient.”
“I’ll call a nurse.” Martina presses the button behind the bed and then hovers over me. “How are you feeling now?”
“Fine.” I wince and rub my chest. “A little sore.”
“Are you strong enough to eat? I bought chicken soup. It’s not as good as mine but…”
I shake my head.
Martina gives me a motherly smile. “He was so worried about you. He’ll be glad to know you’re all right.”
“Who? Dr. Kenji?”
“Finn.”
I almost choke on my own spit. “Finn?”
“Yes, he’s very caring.”
I laugh, but it hurts my chest, and I end up coughing.
“Everyone thinks he is cold and grumpy,” Martina says defensively, “but he is very sensitive boy. Very careful.”
She looks around before confessing. “When he was young, his mother took him to a therapist. She said he has a problem—not a mental problem. Just a teeny weeny problem understanding feelings.”
“Finn doesn’t understand feelings?”
“Not like you and me. He feels things, but he cannot explain what they are.”
Really? I absorb all the information Martina feeds me. That explains so much. Finn often seems detached or numb at times. I thought it was because he didn’t feel anything, but it turns out, he just doesn’t know how to… describe the feelings?
“So this Finn. He takes books. He highlights. He studies. He learns as much about feelings as he can. He has a problem, but it’s a strength. He knows what you are feeling better than you do.”
I recall the night Finn pointed to my diluted pupils and informed me that I wanted him. “H-he can’t be right all the time, can he?”
Martina opens her mouth, but before she can answer, the door opens.
Bailey walks in, with a nervous smile. “Hi, J.”
I stiffen at the sight of her.
“How are you feeling?” Bailey asks, holding up a clipboard.
I shrug. “Fine.”
“Hm.” Bailey reaches for my arm to take my blood pressure.
I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from snatching my wrist away.
“She still looks a little weak,” Martina pipes in. “Is there anything I can give her to build up her strength?”
“Anything rich in lean protein is good. Fish or poultry.” Bailey jots the reading down and tears the Velcro from my arm with a loud rip.
“I know someone who makes a lovely escabeche, but I’m not sure if they’ll have any available this early. I will call a few friends.” Martina hurries out of the room, and I hear her on the phone in the hallway.
Bailey hangs around, her fingers digging into the clipboard.
“Do you need something?” I snap.
Sure, I could be nicer, but this hasn’t exactly been the greatest day. I was rushed back to the hospital because I had a dirty dream about a guy who wants to kill me so… I think I have license to be a little gruff.
Plus, Bailey is way too shifty. I don’t like her vibe.
Red steals into her cheeks, and she tosses a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll let you know when Dr. Kenji gets here.”
I stare at her without a response.
Bailey takes a few steps away before turning back. “Look, J, I’ve been going back and forth about whether or not I should ask this.”
I brace myself for her to plead with me for money. Here we go…
“Remember how you asked me to get that guy into the elevator?”
“Bailey, that was a one-time gig. I don’t—”
“The patient you kept hanging out with was his wife. You two were friends, right?”
“Kelly?” My brow furrows.
Why is she asking about Kelly? Is Bailey seriously interested in Shawn after one flirting session? Should I break Kelly’s confidence and tell her that Shawn is an abusive prick who should be in jail?
I don’t like Bailey, but that doesn’t mean I want to see her in an unfortunate situation.
I lean forward. “Look, Bailey. Just because some people look nice on the outside, it doesn’t mean they’re good people…”
“Oh, so you know about Kelly already.” She blows out a breath. “I was so worried about how I should bring it up.”
I scrunch my nose. “What? Kelly? No, I was talking about Shawn.”
Bailey tilts her head. “Shawn?”
“Yeah. Shawn’s a bad person.”
“Wait, what?”
I fold my arms over my chest. I don’t tolerate people disrespecting my friends. “What are people saying about Kelly?”
Bailey looks furtively over her shoulder, rounds the bed, and whispers in my ear, “One of the nurses here used to work at a psychiatric hospital. She said Kelly was a patient there. Apparently, she was in there for murder.”
I jolt.
My watch beeps.
I take a deep breath and hide the watch beneath the sheet when Bailey looks at it curiously. “Was that my fault? I’m sorry.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you. I just didn’t expect you to say anything that ridiculous.”
“It’s true,” Bailey insists. “She said Kelly was in and out of the hospital, but she got kicked out because she threatened to kill her psychiatrist.”
I picture my sweet, cheerful friend. We talked for hours and clicked so well. I would know if Kelly was a mental patient. There would be signs.
You mean like the way she calls the Jinx phone every night for hours? Or all the angry texts?
It shows she loves her husband, not that she’s a crazy murderer. Who am I going to believe—Creepy Bailey or my friend?
“Does the nurse have any proof?” I demand. “Pictures? Medical records?”
Bailey shakes her head.
“Then I choose to believe Kelly is innocent until she tells me otherwise. Please get out and don’t come back. I’ll ask another nurse to be assigned to me.”
“But…”
Martina skips back inside. “I found someone. They’ll bring the soup.”
I turn my head. “Martina, do you mind helping Bailey to the door? I’m very tired and I want to rest.”
“Of course. Come, Ms. Nurse. Let’s talk outside about more food options for the patient.” Martina hurries Bailey away.
Shaken, I wilt into the pillows and stare at the ceiling in thought.
Kelly was in the psychiatric hospital for murder.
That day when I visited Kelly’s aunt, the old lady kept insisting her niece was dead. Now Bailey thinks Kelly was in a psychiatric hospital. Something isn’t adding up about my friend.
Shooting out of bed, I run to my computer. My gut is telling me I shouldn’t ignore this out of blind faith.
Something about Kelly is desperately wrong.
It’s time to trade a secret for a secret.