CLOVE

ten

⨯ brennan ⨯

The next day finds me hovering anxiously by the hospital bed as the doctors prepare to discharge Clover. The memories of the previous day still haunt me, and the sight of her lying in a hospital bed is a fresh reminder of how close she came to fatal harm.

"She's doing well enough to be discharged today," the doctor explains to me, a smile on his face. "But she needs to take it easy and rest. No physical activity or strenuous activity for the next few weeks, and no alcohol or caffeine. Is there someone who can look after her at home?"

I nod eagerly, anxious to be the one to care for her. "I can look after her," I say, my voice firm. "I'll make sure she follows all the doctor's orders and gets plenty of rest."

What I wanted to say was she's moving in with me and never going back to that house but that's a conversation for me and Clover later.

The doctor nods, satisfied by my answer. "Good," he says. "She'll need someone to monitor her condition and ensure she heals properly. Can I trust you to do that?"

"Absolutely," I reply, my determination stronger than ever. "I'll make sure she's taken care of, no matter what it takes."

"I believe you," the doctor says, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He turns to Clover, who's sitting up in bed looking much better than she did the day before but still pale and listless. "Are you feeling up for discharge, Clover?"

She nods weakly, her voice a rasp. "I'm tired of being in this bed," she croaks. "I just want to go home."

The doctor chuckles. "I understand," he says. "But don't push yourself too hard. Remember, you need to rest and recover." He starts going over her discharge instructions with her as a nurse comes in with a wheelchair.

I offer my arm to Clover, helping her transfer herself into the wheelchair. She winces slightly as she sits down, still sore from her injuries. I wheel her out of the hospital room, feeling a mixture of relief and worry.

We make our way down the hospital hallways, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over us. I push the wheelchair out into the parking lot, and the sunlight hits Clover's face. She closes her eyes against the brightness, wincing in discomfort

I realize that things are going to be harder for her than I realized. She's still weak and in pain, and even simple tasks like getting her home will be difficult for her. I resist the urge to scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the car.

We make our way to my car, and I carefully help her get into the passenger seat. She winces as she moves, and it kills me to see her in so much pain. I buckle her seat belt around her, treating her carefully, like she might break at any moment.

I climb into the driver's seat and start the car. The silence between us is thick and heavy as I drive out of the hospital parking lot. I glance over at Clover as I drive, seeing how pale and tired she looks. I know that I can't let her go back to her mother's house, not after everything that happened. "You're staying with me," I say, my voice firm. "At least until you're fully healed."

Clover's eyes widen, surprise and gratitude in her gaze. "You don't have to do that," she says weakly. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You're not a burden," I say, my tone gentle but firm. "And there's no way I'm letting you go back to your mom's house. Not until I know you're safe and healing properly."

Clover looks like she's about to protest, but then she slumps back against the seat, exhaustion taking over. "Fine," she mutters. "I'll stay with you for awhile."