The low, sultry voice wove through the fog induced by pain medication and touched a place deep inside Jeff Grayson. He struggled to open his eyes but felt as though the lids were weighted by coins. They used to do that but he wasn’t dead, just drugged. He stopped struggling and listened. The voice stroked and caressed like a healing balm applied to a burn.
“Dr. Grayson, can you hear me?”
“Jeff.” No way would he allow that voice to call him doctor. He opened his mouth. “Yes.”
“I’m Abby Reid from Home Caring. I understand you’ll soon be going home. Your doctor mentioned you will need nursing care.”
He nodded. At least he thought he had. The dose of Tylenol and Codeine had erased the little control he had over his battered body. Why should he fight the warmth stealing over his body? He would follow that smooth voice over a cliff and never protest.
“Dr. Grayson, do you know when you’ll be discharged?”
Why the formality? He had no desire for a professional relationship with her. He was Jeff. He had no reason to be a doctor today. A bark of laughter erupted. He had to answer the question. His scattered thoughts jelled. “Six days ago. No, tomorrow.”
“Are you capable of making decisions? If not, I’ll return later.”
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