Read Online Trying to Survive (The Kiser #1) by Hannah Davenport - Free Book Online Page A

don’t know how much I can help you.”   I said as she pulled out some papers and handed me a pen.
         Smiling, she said, “Well, we need someone to be responsible, and he
doesn’t even have a wallet on him.”   Not
knowing what to do, I gave him a fake name and then   filled out my name and address, telephone
number and gave her a credit card.  
         She showed me back down the hall to the room where I left him.   He was there and looked as though he was
resting, but I still went back to the head of the stretcher and started rubbing
his forehead again.   About an hour later,
the doctor came in and told me that nothing was broken; he was just really
bruised and swollen and he might have a concussion.   He instructed me to keep ice on his face and
gave me a prescription for pain pills.   Standing there dumbfounded and holding a prescription, I felt confused
and conflicted.   I didn’t know this man,
I found him in an alley.
         They wheeled him out in a wheelchair, and I hailed another cab.   With nowhere else to go, I gave the cabbie my
hotel address. We certainly got many stares as I tried to get him
upstairs.   It wasn’t easy.   When I finally got him in to bed, I started
removing his clothes.   They were covered
in blood, and I couldn’t let him lay in that.  
         Unbuttoning his shirt, I moved the ends apart and tried not to notice
how hard and muscular his chest felt as my hands accidently graced his
body.   I didn’t notice the fine layer of
dark hair that you had to look hard to see, nor did I notice how tan and smooth
his skin looked.   As I removed one arm
from his sleeve and then the other, I also tried not to notice how big his
biceps were.
          Moving down, I unbuttoned, then unzipped
his pants and tried not to notice how my heart beat against my chest like it
wanted to be free.   As I slid them down,
I really tried hard not to notice the bulge in his black boxer underwear, nor
the perfect muscular thighs that lay right below that bulge.   With shaking hands, I carried his bloody
clothes to the bathroom so I could wash them out later.
         Breathing hard, I berated myself.   Get ahold of yourself!   He’s injured and you’re staring at him like
you’ve never seen a good looking man before.   Okay, more like an Adonis.   Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I found
the empty ice bucket and made my way to the bathroom.   Filling it with warm soapy water, I grabbed a
washcloth and towel before heading back to the bed.   Pulling up a chair, I gently wiped some of
the blood from his face.   Talking
quietly, hoping to let him know he wasn’t alone.   “What happened to you?”   Although I felt sure that I knew.   The clinic couldn’t find a wallet or anything
personal and thought someone had robbed him.   I wondered briefly, why they hadn’t called the police.   Probably
by accident because as soon as the doctor came in to talk to me, several
other badly hurt victims came in .
         After washing the blood from his face, chest, and hands, I emptied my
dirty water and ran some more clean.   Trying to figure how to wash his hair, I grabbed several more towels and
an empty trash bag from the wastebasket.   Standing there looking at him and the bed, I came up with an idea to
wash his hair.   Sliding the trash bag
under his head, and then laying some towels on top of that, I used a cup to
pour as little water as possible over his hair.   It seemed to be working well, so I lathered his hair and then
rinsed.   I almost squealed in delight
when I removed the towels and trash bag and found the bed dry.
         He hadn’t even moved, I guess the pain medicine the clinic gave him
finally starting working.   I went to the
bathroom and changed in to a pair of sweats and a tee.   No way would I put on my gown with a strange
man here.   Returning to the main room, I
decided to use only my inhaler.   I knew I
would pay for it later, but I