“I’m sorry…my parents…”
“Hey,” he said, brushing her hair from her forehead. “I was kidding.”
“I’m sorry I was so…horrible…to you.”
He’d make another joke about how he was used to it, but right now, she wouldn’t find it funny.
“You weren’t horrible. You were in a car accident, Alegria. Cut yourself some slack.”
“I hate it when I act like them.”
“Who? Your parents?”
She nodded.
“Can I see your wristband, please?” asked a guy in scrubs who walked through the same double doors that Mantis had come through.
She lifted her arm.
“Manon? Is that how you pronounce it?”
She nodded.
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” Mantis whispered in her ear.
“Ready to get back to your room?” the orderly asked.
“Not really,” she groaned.
“Why?” he asked.
Alegria looked up at Mantis. “My parents might be up there.”
“I saw them. Actually, I only saw your father.”
“And?”
“I leveled him. He’s probably in the emergency room as we speak.”
“You aren’t serious?” she gasped.
“No. I’m not. Although it was tempting.”
“He’s such a bastard,” she spat.
Mantis could tell the orderly was having a hard time holding in his laughter.
“Sorry,” he said when he realized Mantis was watching him. “My dad is kind of a bastard too.”
“Is he French?” Alegria asked.
“No. Why?”
“No one is more of a bastard than a Frenchman.”