Read Lori Wilde - There Goes The Bride for Free Online

his hand and shaking his head. A bullet of dread ricocheted through the ventricles of Nick’s heart at the serious expression on the other man’s face.
    “I’ve received the results of your follow-up tests,” Van Zandt said, “and I’m sorry, Nick, but the outcome isn’t as favorable as we had hoped.”
    Sweat broke across Nick’s brow. He fisted his hands and swallowed hard. In this stupid paper gown he was nearly naked and felt too damn exposed. He scowled past his anxiety and mouthed toughly, “Whaddya mean?”
    “It’s been eight weeks since the injury and while your leg is improved, you’re still healing at a much slower rate than I anticipated. I’m afraid I can’t yet allow you to return to work.”
    Fear swamped him. Anxiety soup. Followed on its heels by a thick, rolling wave of despair.
Son of a bitch.
He could not spend one more hour watching bad television. Could not play one more video game or surf the net one more time or he’d lose his frickin’ mind.
    “I gotta go back to work, Doc. I’ll take a desk job. Sit on my butt, no chasing suspects. I promise.” He held up his palm as if he were taking an oath on the witness stand.
    Van Zandt fidgeted with his tie, then flipped up the tail of his lab coat and took a seat on the rolling stool. He had the butter-soft face of a man who’d lived an easy life. “I can’t in good conscience sign the release form.”
    Nick pressed his palms together, supplicating. “I’m going nuts, here. Please don’t make me beg.”
    “Have you been doing your exercises?”
    “Regular as a nun to mass.”
    Van Zandt threw back his head and brayed loudly at Nick’s comment. “Well, at least you still have your sense of humor.”
    Irritation dug into Nick’s gut. The guy laughed like a freaking barnyard donkey. “Yeah, lucky me. Ha, ha.”
    “Have you been taking your antibiotics?” Van Zandt asked.
    “Morning, noon, and night.”
    “What about the pain pills?”
    “Not so much.”
    “When was the last time you took one?”
    “I never got the prescription filled when I left the hospital,” he admitted.
    “You’re kidding.”
    Nick shook his head.
    “There’s no need to be macho. If you’re hurting, take the Vicodin. Pain inhibits healing.”
    “Pills make me feel dulled.”
    “Take them anyway.”
    “I’ve seen a lot of people get addicted to those things.”
    “You’re too strong-minded to get addicted.”
    “You have no idea how bored I am.”
    “Let’s listen to your lungs.” Van Zandt took a stethoscope out of his pocket. He placed the earpieces in his ears and pressed the bell of the stethoscope against Nick’s back. The damn thing felt as if he’d just pulled it out of the freezer. “Deep breath.”
    Nick inhaled.
    “Have you been eating a healthy diet?”
    “I have a slice of pizza now and again, but otherwise I’m doing the whole rabbit food thing and staying away from beer like you said the last time I was here.”
    “Good, good.” Van Zandt nodded.
    “Why am I not healing? You really think it’s just because I haven’t been taking the pain pills?”
    “Could be. How’s your stress level?”
    “I told you, I’m going stir-crazy with nothing to do.”
    “Anything else going on?” Van Zandt finished listening to his lungs and came around the examination table to lay the stethoscope against Nick’s heart.
    “You mean beside the fact my grandfather died two days after I got wounded on the job? And my income has been cut by a third while I’m on disability? And oh, yes, my ex-wife, who left me on our honeymoon last year, just sent me a wedding invitation. Guess what? She’s three months pregnant, marrying a famous stand-up comedian, and moving to Martha’s Vineyard.”
    Nick didn’t like discussing his private business, especially that bit about Amber, but he was playing the sympathy card, hoping Van Zandt would feel sorry enough for him that he’d sign that release form.
    “Really?” Van Zandt looked