The Promise(3)

Gina had brought me some new nightgowns and a robe to wear during my hospital stay. They were pretty in a cute way that was very Gina and so not me.

I was about flash and impact all the time. I could put on the glitz just going down to the lobby to get my mail.

But when it came to bed wear, the less material the better. And if there was material, I liked it to leave as little to the imagination as possible (yes, even if I was sleeping just with me).

As cute as the ones Gina brought were, they were also appropriate for a hospital stay, thus no flash, no impact, and lots of material.

I’d opted to wear hospital gowns.

They were ugly, shapeless, and no one could get ideas about a woman in a hospital gown.

And I had a feeling Benny was getting ideas.

Cindy started wheeling me toward the exit doors and she did this still talking.

“So the girls, we’ve been talkin’ about that since he brought you in covered in your blood. Now, I didn’t see that part, but it’s made the rounds big time. Hot guy. Hot girl. GSW. Blood. Drama. Resulting television crews. That happens.”

I was sure it did.

But it was time to put a stop to this.

“He’s my dead boyfriend’s brother.”

“Ah,” she uttered knowingly, still wheeling. Her voice had gone from no-nonsense nosy to soft with nurse concern when she went on. “Sorry to hear about your loss, hon. When’d he die?”

“Seven years ago.”

She stopped wheeling.

“Uh…what?”

I twisted my neck to look up at her to see her staring down at me.

“Vinnie died seven years ago.”

“And you’re fakin’ sleepin’ when his hottie brother comes a-callin’ because of why?”

“Because Benny, the hottie brother, wants to talk,” I told her.

“About what?” she asked.

I had no clue.

But with the way he traced my lower lip with his thumb when he told me we were going to talk. With the way he picked me up off the forest floor and sprinted to his SUV with me in his arms after I was shot. With the way he caught my pass years ago when I was drunk after Vinnie died and stupidly, crazily, sluttily threw myself at him…

Well, with all that, I was thinking all this attention wasn’t about remembrance of sisterly love, what with the lip-tracing and tongues-tangling parts being included.

“I don’t know,” I shared with Cindy.

Her brows shot up. “And you faked sleepin’ and didn’t find out?”

“Yep.”

Her head tipped to the side and she deduced, “’Cause no boy who looks like that comes to the hospital every day for a girl who looks like you ’cause he’s keepin’ an eye on his seven-years-dead brother’s girlfriend.”

Indication that Cindy not only had seen it all, but she understood it.

“Something like that,” I conceded.

“Everything like that,” she returned.

She was right, but I didn’t confirm that fact.

“You’re not into him?” she asked, and I felt my eyes get wide.

“He’s Benny,” I said in response, figuring that said it all.

“He sure is,” she agreed, knowing it said it all because she’d seen him, repeatedly (though, once would do it).

“But he’s my dead boyfriend’s brother.”

“Girl,” she started, wheeling me toward the doors again, “God doesn’t care who you let in there, just as long as the feelin’s are honest when you let him in.”

I looked to my bag on my knees. “It’s my understanding God does care who you let in there.”

“Sure enough,” she replied. “But that’s not the there I’m talkin’ about. The there I’m talkin’ about is your heart.”

I was not going to get into this with my soon-to-be-ex nurse while she wheeled me to the taxi that would take me home after my hospital stay, so I pressed my lips together again.

I unpressed them when I felt her stutter step behind me and the wheelchair jerked slightly with her movement.

I also looked up when this happened.

And what I saw was Benny Bianchi in a white t-shirt that hugged his muscular torso in a way that made you jealous of that tee. He also had on faded jeans that fit loose in a way that only hinted at the power in those long legs (not to mention the power behind that package), making you want to get acquainted with both…intimately. He was leaning against his Explorer right outside the doors.

He had his arms crossed on his chest and shades over his dark brown eyes, but I knew those eyes were on me.

He was waiting on me.

Not parked illegally outside a hospital to come for a visit.

Waiting on me to be released.

“Uh…Cindy,” I muttered, eyes glued to Ben. “Did someone at the nurse’s station share with Benny when I’d be released?”