The Jenna Rollins Real Love Tour by Janci Patterson & Megan Walker

Author:Janci Patterson & Megan Walker [Patterson, Janci & Walker, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: contemporary romance
ISBN: 9781080863945
Goodreads: 48004426
Publisher: Independently published
Published: 2019-08-17T00:00:00+00:00

Eight

Felix

The first thing I’m aware of is a song. It’s far away at first, like someone left their window open and has it softly playing in the background. There are no words, just the hum of a woman’s voice, and though I’m cold and achy, the voice makes me feel safe.

And then I realize I know the words.

I open my eyes. Jenna is sitting next to me in a hospital chair, holding my hand. Her eyes are closed and her head rests on the bed beside me, her dark hair spreading out over the blanket that covers me.

She’s quietly humming “You Are the Story.”

I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes back and looks up at me. She looks like she hasn’t slept in a year, and she’s still wearing her black dress from the concert.

And that’s when I remember. Grant. The pizza. The knife, and my blood.

I’m not dead. It didn’t occur to me to think I could have been until this moment, but—

“How long was I out?” I ask. I look down, but I’m covered up to my armpits with a blanket, so I can’t see what’s underneath. I don’t hurt, exactly, but that chill and that dull ache has spread over my whole body.

My fingers are trembling.

“Almost twelve hours,” Jenna says. “They had to do surgery. Something about organ damage.”

Surgery. Twelve hours. As I become more aware, I realize that my arm has an IV taped to it, and there’s sweat on my forehead. That’s why I’m so cold, I’m sweating, and the achiness is—

“Shit,” I say. “Did they give me—”

Jenna grips my hand, tears shining in her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she says. She babbles something I have a hard time following, about anesthesia and Lortab and precipitated withdrawal.

“They gave you your Suboxone,” she says. “And they said that the whatever it is in your system lasts longer than twenty-four hours, so you might be fine. But I forgot to tell them until after you were out of surgery and—”

“Jenna,” I say, squeezing her hand back. “It’s okay.”

She sniffles. “Is it?”

I stretch out a little, and I can feel pain in my gut, and a tightness, maybe from the stitches. The sweat is clearing now, so maybe it’s just from regaining consciousness or the regular wearing off of the anesthesia.

“A doctor came in a little while ago and said that now that you’re back on the Suboxone, they can give you more pain killers, and that should be fine. But I didn’t know if you would—”

I shake my head. “No,” I say. “No, I don’t want any.”

She nods. “They say your pain will increase then. They said if you don’t take something for it you might self-medicate.”

Jenna looks terrified, and my own mind is spinning through all this at a frightening and somewhat dizzying speed.

They said self-medicate, but they mean go back to heroin. That if the pain is too bad I might crave drugs, if I don’t take the ones that are prescribed.

But if I do take the prescription, how will I know when to stop?

Shit.

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