“HELEN STOOD NEXT TO OLIVER’S BED in the dimly lit room, holding his hand, talking softly as if he could hear her. “Oliver, I know you can hear me. You’ll wake up soon. You’ll be fine.” She had changed from the hospital gown into a pair of green scrubs and slippers one of the nurses offered. After they allowed her to shower away the stench and grime from the fire she would dress in the clothes Frank Temple brought from the ranch, but for the moment the scrubs would have to do. She fe...lt a little like the bride of Frankenstein. She touched the cuts on her face, those with tiny stitches the plastic surgeon had artfully sewn and smaller ones dressed with ointment and bandages. Her burned right arm still throbbed, but she continued to refuse the pain meds they offered, preferring to stay as alert as possible. Given the physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion, she desperately needed sleep, but she couldn’t make herself leave Oliver, even to the watchful eyes of the ICU staff and security.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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