I is for Ian - Page 38



There was no way I’d read what I thought I’d read. I was just tired and on edge because of everything that was going on. Obviously, I was suffering from hallucinations stemming from the stress of the situation. That was the only explanation that could possibly be true.

With that in mind, I was going to respond in a calm, dignified way.

“Days?” I nearly screamed. “They won’t be able to get to us for days? As in more than one?”

Apparently, my brain didn’t get the memo that I was going to stay calm.

“Days,” Ian said, confirming the misery.

I couldn’t see straight I was so angry, but I took a breath and tried to swallow it. This was not the way to get a start on this situation. I had already blown up at him, and now I was pushed so far beyond the line that there were only two responses left. Either I was going to have to try to calm down, or I was going to start swinging. At the end of the day, it wasn’t his fault that I’d slept through the bus coming and picking everyone else up.

He was on his own when it came to the blame for him still being there, but I had to accept that I was stuck in the hospital because of myself and only myself. I’d exhausted myself trying to help everyone get out and to safety for the storm, so when I went to sleep, it was so deep there wasn’t anything that was going to drag me out of it. Apparently, even the last hope for deliverance from the mostly dark, cavernous building and the aggravating construction worker there with me.

But, again, that was on me. No matter how frustrating and annoying he was, Ian didn’t deserve for me to tear into him because of it.

The fact of the matter was, I was stuck in this hospital with him. For days, apparently. At least I was stuck with him on what appeared to be the only working floor with electricity and heat. I was going to have to make do with him and try to find some level of peace, some level of ability to tolerate him.

My mind was spinning trying to figure out how I was going to get through this. It wasn’t like I prepared for a long time at the hospital. According to my plan, I was supposed to either be home or at Amanda’s house right now. Possibly sitting in front of a fire with a cup of cocoa.

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of this either,” he said, sitting across from me.

“I wish I brought more than one bag of snacks now. The vending machines are going to be pretty poor substitutes for food.”

“Wait, vending machines?” he asked. “I don’t have any change.”

“They take cards,” I sighed. “No one carries change anymore.”

“Oh, well, that will work then, I guess.”

“I guess,” I said. “As long as you don’t need anything other than potato chips and candy bars.” Ian shrugged, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “That’s right, you’re a man. You don’t care if you eat junk constantly.”

“Not exactly,” he said. “Though they might make a convenient supplement.”

I gave him a sullen look.

“Supplement? To what? Raiding the breakroom for homemade lasagna?”

It was pure petty sarcasm, but there was a small part of me that was kind of hoping something like that did exist.

“I didn’t think about that exactly, but yes, something along those lines,” he said, grinning. Just seeing him grin in a situation like this made me want to smack him. “There’s a bunch of cooking stuff in Dr. Sutton’s suite. I know I saw a microwave and a stovetop. I think he even has an oven. I didn’t really look too hard because I was more concerned with getting a shower.”

There it was again. Flaunting his shower at me. I could kill for a hot shower and a giant bowl of pasta. Damn it. Now I had gotten the idea of pasta stuck in my head. That was going to torment me however long we were stuck here.

But the mention of the cooking equipment did get me interested. I knew Dr. Sutton had some pretty elaborate digs at the hospital, but I didn’t realize it was essentially an entire apartment. There might have been some hope after all.

“Does he have a refrigerator there, too?” I asked.

“Not a full one, but a little half fridge, yes,” he said. “Come on, let’s go look. I’m sure we could make do. At the very least, we’ll find enough to survive on until they’re able to get us out of here.”

I wasn’t entirely sure I believed him. It seemed alternately too good to be true and absolutely ridiculous that Dr. Sutton would have all that stuff in his suite while also building another one three floors up that took up half the floor. As aggravatingly blunt and off-putting as Dr. Sutton could be, I couldn’t imagine he would be living in the lap of luxury like that all the time.

Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance
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