Drey (Numbers Book 2) by May Doyle

Author:May Doyle [Doyle, May]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Clara would love nothing more than to run out of the hospital in the morning, but it was beginning to look like she would never get out. The doctor was late on his rounds to discharge her, she grabbed three nurses before they finally told her when the doctor would be round.

She looked at the clock and cursed loudly.

A few patients waiting in the seating area shot her looks, but none met her gaze head-on. She didn’t blame them, she probably looked as mad as Drey called her. Her hair was mussed beyond all hope, the quick washes she had taken were not enough for her to feel clean.

Her skin finally felt like it could breathe again, the pores no longer pinched and tight. The small burns on her arms were now pink and healing the only thing that still felt a bit battered was her lungs. She still had fits of coughing. A hacking cough that felt like it was burning her more than the fire did at times.

She waited for the uptight receptionist to hand her things. Clara battered her eyelashes innocently and the receptionist's lips curled up in disgust. Her big brown eyes would set off her darker skin tone nicely if she weren’t frowning and looking around in disgust, nose in the air.

Clara almost snorted, because whatever the receptionist's problem, she didn’t have time for it.

When she handed it over, she did so with a hiss. “Enjoy him while you can bitch.”

Recoiling Clara glared at her. Shrugging her bag onto her shoulder, eyes holding the receptionist’s she looked for her name and found the tag just under her shoulder length brown hair on the left pinned on the mound of her breast.

Yolanda.

She would remember the name in case she’d spit on Clara’s meager belongings. The bag was so light and yet it held her life. Not quite true, she did save the things she pulled out of the fire. Will told her he had moved them all into the barn, so she hadn’t completely lost everything. She still had things of sentimental value that were worth more to her than some lost money.

Walking out the double doors and feeling the breeze on her face for the first time in days she let out an exhale and inhaled twice as deep. Her nose bumped into a chest and arms came around her, she would have struggled but the heat was something she’d felt before.

“Clara,” he sighed her name and she heard relief layering his voice, he crushed her to him without holding her too tight.

She snuggled in his arm, not caring who was looking at them. She needed comfort and for some reason, him being there had loosened the knot of tension around her heart, and the dam that held back the tears broke again. He stiffened in surprise, then stroked her back making shushing noises.

“They burnt my fucking house.”

“I know beauty I know,” he murmured still making a soothing circle on her back.

“Who would do that, who would do that,” she didn’t expect an answer.

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