“For me?” Cole asked, confused. “But she’d already gotten Mastiff to sign the discharge papers. Why push herself so hard to get the nurse to agree?”
“I’m thankful she did,” Dr. Andrews looked as if he had been praying with both of his hands pressed against his lips. Cole looked over at his father, expecting him to elaborate.
“I was unaware of this hospital’s protocol. It’s a good idea, to have a board of people who decide together whether a patient is ready to be discharged. As an ER doctor, I didn’t have to worry about that part of the red-tape, but it probably took place in my hospital, too.
“These days, the hospitals are trying to prevent litigation. The more people involved in big decisions, the less likely they or the hospital will be sued for malpractice.”
Evan was nodding in complete agreement, his eyes never leaving his sister’s small frame. He was absolutely in awe of her gift and was thinking about the effects it must have on her body to exude so much mental energy. He was even wondering if the nurse rubbing her temples was a side effect of having been “influenced,” as Meg called it.
Cole was frowning.
Theo reached out and held his son’s good hand. “She risked her own health to be sure the nurse wouldn’t call to question the signed papers. She knew the nurse was planning to take her concerns about discharging you to another doctor which would have made things very complicated for us.”
Cole just shook his head. “She was really just trying to protect the secret of metahumans.”
“No, Cole,” Creed nearly growled. “She was trying to protect you, but you’re too oblivious to notice.”
Meg began stirring in Creed’s arms.
“Stop guys. No more arguing,” she murmured, her voice weak. Her eyes still didn’t open, but she did attempt to sit up a little more. Sitting so close to Creed was helping her regain her strength faster as she siphoned off her connection to him. He felt nothing when she drew on her empath connection with him, but she felt like a sunflower as the sun began to dawn.
“I’m going to start packing your things, son. The sooner we get out of here, the less likely we’ll need Meg to convince anyone else that you’re ready to be released.”
Cole watched Creed lean down and whisper something into Meg’s ear, burying his face in her beautiful, strawberry-scented dark hair. A soft smile slipped across her lips. Whatever he was doing or saying, it was helping her feel better—and Cole hated him for it.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to look away. “Dad, can you get me a wheelchair so I can get out of this bed?”
Chapter 25 The Protégé and The Skateboarder
True to her word, Stacy had Cole ready to be discharged within a half hour. During that time, Meg had recuperated enough so that at least she wasn’t as weak as a kitten in Creed’s arms.
“Listen, I’m going to take Cole home. Sloan has offered to stay with him while I come back and wait with you for your mom to come out of surgery.”
Meg looked over at Sloan, who caught her gaze and nodded reassuringly.
“It makes sense for me to help get your friend settled,” she shrugged. “That is, if you don’t mind, Mr. Andrews?” She asked formally.
Cole didn’t look up from the folder containing all the copies of his discharge papers and prescriptions and aftercare instructions.
“Cole, Sloan is talking to you.” Dr. Andrews nudged his son.
“Hmm? Oh, sure, that’s fine with me. Sorry, no one has ever called me ‘Mr. Andrews’ before.” Cole blushed.
Cole was concentrating on not looking at Meg and Creed. Instead, he locked eyes with the girl who was a doctor of some sort.
Theo, Cole and Sloan said their goodbyes, Theo promising to return after dropping Cole and Sloan off at the house. Margo’s surgeons had not sent word and everyone was starting to get measurably concerned, but realistically, it had only been two hours.
After carefully helping his son into the front seat of the minivan, he turned around to check that Sloan was buckled. “Sorry,” he shrugged sheepishly. “I look at you and see a little girl. Sometimes I forget you’re a brilliant doctor and biologist.”
“Don’t worry, Dr. Andrews. I’m accustomed to being treated like a child. I’m also accustomed to people feeling awkward around me once I open my mouth to speak,” she offered carefully.
“How old are you?” Cole asked bluntly.
“I am thirteen. My birthday is in December.”
“So is mine—on the thirteenth.”
“Hmm,” Sloan smiled.
“What?”
“Coincidently, my birthday is also December thirteenth.”
“Wow, what are the odds?”
“Well, we could look at calculating the probability, but…”
“I didn’t mean for you to whip out your calculator brain, Sloan.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry, my head is pounding. I don’t mean to be rude. Here you are helping my family and me. I should be saying thank you.”
“Yes, that would be socially appropriate,” Sloan answered stiffly.