Primitive Fix by Alicia Sparks Page B

her—how many nights ago? This man was a volatile ball of nerves, the ticking of his jaw, the stark tone of his voice, revealing so much while telling her absolutely nothing.
    “Thank you for staying with me.”
    “I needed to be here when you woke up.” He sank down into the chair next to her, then leaned in with his elbows on his knees, his feet tapping nervously against the linoleum floor, the sound echoing.
    “If you need to be somewhere else—”
    “There’s nowhere else. Nothing else.”
    “So what are you avoiding telling me?”
    “Which part? That you almost died? That I put the person I love the most in the biggest danger or that my brother tried to kill you?”
    There was more, something unspoken lingering there between them, but her head was pounding too much for her to focus. “There’s more.” Her eyes darted back to her left wrist, to the gauze that seemed to be mocking her. “Did he cut my wrist too?”
    “No.”
    “Then why am I bandaged?”
    “Because you are being set free. It’s what you wanted, right?”
    She swallowed hard. He’d had her tattoo removed? Had removed his as well? A wave of nausea rolled over her and panic seized her chest. A sob built up inside her, but she was damned if she would let it escape. It was over. The thing that she wanted the most. Then why did she feel as if her soul had been ripped from her body?
    “So you are letting me go.” She kept her words as steady as her trembling lips would allow.
    “We had a deal, remember?” 
    “So your brother is okay?” 
    “No. He’s gone. Back into the swamps. Are you in pain?” He shoved off the chair and moved to the dresser, which was lined with pill bottles.
    Yes. She grimaced. Her entire body was starting to pulse with pain, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to numb it just yet. And she sure as hell didn’t want to be sedated again. What she wanted to do was get the fuck out of this bed and figure out what exactly had changed between her and Kenyon, why he would take such drastic measures to be rid of her. He had confessed his love to her, and she had foolishly done the same. And now this. “How soon can I leave?”
    His jaw ticked as he spoke. “Two more days of IV drugs.”
    “Great,” she groaned. She was not used to being still, and two days—two conscious days—in the hospital would not sit well with her. “I assume my family knows I’m here?”
    “Yes. Your parents were called as soon as you were brought in, but due to the nature of…everything, it was decided it would be best if they didn’t come.”
    That didn’t sound like River and Nollie. If their only child were in the hospital, they would be by her bedside, blaming themselves and using the opportunity to make her feel guilty for moving fifty miles away from them. The horror. “Who decided they shouldn’t come?”
    “It’s a delicate situation.” He sat back down and resumed the tapping of his feet.
    “I assumed that, but I know my parents. And it doesn’t seem like you’re willing to tell me exactly what the situation is.” The way he was sitting there, his feet tapping a hole in the floor, she knew there was so much more going on.
    “I’m not the doctor.” 
    “Convenient answer.”
    “Do you want a pain pill?” Nice redirect.
    “Will it knock me out?”
    “Do you want it to?”
    “No.” The last thing she needed was more unconscious time. Something told her there was a lot more going on than a gash in her body, and the sooner she found out what it was, the sooner she could deal with it.
    “Then it won’t. I can give you something that will dull the pain but keep you conscious.”
    “Sounds like a plan.” She settled against the pillows. Sitting all the way up was impossible, but lying on the flat of her back didn’t make her feel claustrophobic.  And her left side was hurting like a mother. Swallowing the pill, she focused her attention back to Kenyon.
    “I’ll have everything ready for you to leave in two