Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One by Adam Knight Page A

before. But given the blood loss, surgery and hospital food
doctors weren’t surprised about that. It was a surprise to me
though. Scale said I was down twenty pounds.
     
    I shoulda got
shot months ago. Been trying to shed that weight for years.
     
    It’s not like I
suddenly had abs or anything but the belly was definitely reduced.
‘Course my arms, back and shoulders were all shrunken as well so
odds are I was in for a long road back to power lifting.
     
    My reduced
belly rumbled loudly. I grimaced and stared down at it. The last
two days I had been asking for extra meals to keep up with my
ignorant stomach’s demands. Just couldn’t manage to keep it sated.
Doctors called this a wonderful sign, that my metabolism was
responding well to the therapy and surgery. Trying to speed up the
process of healing.
     
    All I knew was
that my granny sized portions of food were not getting the job
done.
     
    Ugh.
     
    Why couldn’t I
get a pizza delivered?
     
    I went
through all the cards that came with the flowers. One from Tamara
that was very sweet, though I had still been unconscious when she
dropped it off. Aaron and the security crew from Cowboy Shotz had come in together a
few days back, dropping off a huge bouquet and one of those giant
novelty cards that they had all signed. Aaron had left a personal
note, thanking me for my diligence and sacrifice and wanting me to
take as much time as I needed before coming back.
     
    Other
cards and miscellany. Mom’s church. Ones from CTV News, the Free
Press, the Sun. A teeny one liner from Canada-Pharm wishing me well; no flowers from
them.
     
    Shocker.
     
    I packed up all
the cards, folding the giant one in two to get it squished into my
gear bag. Then I eyeballed the flowers carefully, trying to decide
which ones were best to …
     
    Someone knocked
on my door.
     
    I checked back
over my shoulder and froze.
     
    A shade over
five and a half feet tall in flats, taller than that now in her
fashionable heeled boots. Dark slacks with a matching blazer. A
modest purple top with a high neckline that failed to minimize the
significance of her bust. Long brown hair in waves just past her
shoulders. Very professional attire for a very professional
woman.
     
    And I was
standing in front of her bare to the waist in my faded blue jeans
and sneakers.
     
    Shit.
     
    I scrambled to
get my ratty t-shirt back over my head, hoping it hid the sudden
hot flush that scored my cheeks. If she laughed I might’ve crawled
under the hospital bed like a kid and cried.
     
    She didn’t
laugh. Her eyes turned away modestly, a slight flush on her lightly
made up cheeks. “I’m sorry, Joe. I didn’t mean to …”
     
    “It’s fine!” I
blurted, getting the shirt down over my sagging belly and running
my fingers self-consciously through my disheveled hair. “I just
wasn’t expecting … I mean ….”
     
    “I can go, come
back later if you want me to.”
     
    “No. No, it’s
fine.”
     
    “Really it’s
... I should’ve tried calling, maybe. I …”
     
    “It’s fine,
Cathy.” Anything to end the awkward standoff. I took a deep breath,
swallowed my embarrassment and buried it deep where my pride and
dreams made begrudging room for it. “Really. No harm done.”
     
    She met my
gaze. I’d forgotten how blue her eyes were. Startling contrast with
her dark hair and complexion.
     
    “So you do
remember me?” She smiled slightly, dimples and all. “After the
other night I wasn’t sure.” She paused then, a little concerned. “
Oh I’m sorry. Can you even remember the other night? When you
…”
     
    “I remember.” I
shuddered. Aches in my chest, phantom pain mixed with real pain.
The dream catcher tattoo. Flashes. Dad and Donald. Smoke. Blood.
Pain.
     
    I shook my
head.
     
    “Yeah, I
remember it all.”
     
    She crossed her
arms, hugging herself as if getting a chill. I’m told the sight of
me topless does that to women, though not in a good way.
     
    “That’s