We skip ahead a bit because chapters 8-11 are pretty much rewrites of previous material and do you really care at this point (if you do, let me know)?
This chapter, however, is brand new and is necessary to establish a thread I make use of later in the story (no worries, you haven’t seen where yet).
Ginni Lister blinked a few times. Her eyes wouldn’t focus at first. Something beeped above her, the rapidity of the beeps increased as her awareness grew. A light blanket covered her, between her and the blanket a clean, fresh-smelling sheet. Her head rested comfortably on a not too-giving pillow. Her left arm rested beside her and above the covers. With in IV inserted and taped in place.
She sat up. Walls painted a soft azure. A nightstand with a beautiful floral arrangement. Some of her personal things on a semi-commercial looking bureau with a vanity and mirror on top.
Voices. Briggs? She followed the voices to a door, a window from slightly above handle-height to the height of a tallish man let her see into a brightly lit and similarly painted hallway.
Briggs stood there. He nodded and talked to someone she couldn’t see. He glanced through the glass, saw her staring, excused himself from whomever he talked with, and entered her room.
“How you doing?”
“Where am I?”
He pulled out his phone and swiped, tapped, swiped. “You’re in recovery. You got out of ICU about two hours ago. The anesthetic is wearing off. You remember what happened?”
She pushed herself so she sat up against her pillow and kept her eyes on him. “I was giving you head. That’s the last thing I remember.”
Briggs nodded. “You started gagging.”
“You must be so proud.”
He paused for a moment but only to focus on a message on his phone. “You turned blue and passed out. I called our building’s emergency services. They stabilized you and got you here. You remember any of that?”
Swipe, swipe, tap. “Topsfield. North Shore. A clinic I know. One where I can trust everyone. You feeling alright?”
“When can I leave?”
Tab. Tab. Swipe. “They’ll probably want to keep you in for observation for at least another day. Want to get the doctor?”
“Personal friend of yours?”
Lane looked up from his phone, shook his head, and went to the door. “Your welcome. I’ll expect you back at work the day after you’re released.”
“You mean they won’t tell you as I’m walking out the door?”
He opened the door and put his phone back in his pocket. “Don’t worry. Our insurance covers everything.”
She listened as the clacking steps of his bespoke shoes died in the hallway and lay back in bed. “Thanks, Briggs. Really appreciate your concern.” She glanced at the IV injection point. Another red mark, a slight swelling, was about an inch above it. “Must’ve not been able to find the vein the first time.”