Chapter Twenty

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Ethan

It was too soon to be releasing him. He wasn't strong enough. He still looked so frail and weak that I was sure he would snap if someone hugged him too hard.

I often found myself glaring at Hugh whenever he came bounding into the room, day after day, to greet Harry with a tight, rough squeeze. He even kissed him on the forehead once, which earned him a hard punch in the arm from Harry.

I caught the tiny smile Harry gave after punching him, though. He didn't fool me.

It was actually quite amazing at how their relationship was blossoming. From Harry refusing to even call him by his first name due to his 'hatred' of Hugh to now. Harry even referred to Hugh as his 'brother' yesterday, only to redden and change the topic immediately.

"Are you sure he's okay to be discharged?" I asked Dr Rushman now for the thousandth time. It had been five short days since Harry woke up and Harvey and Jennifer had come in, all guns blazing, ready for action. Harry was practically jumping from the bed once Harvey announced that the time for fighting was near.

To my relief, they all burst out laughing when Harry suggested he start training that night to build up his strength again. He had looked so down when they told him it was up to Dr Rushman – Harry hated doctors. Rushman had advised to rest for at least a week before Harry start any form of training or work. Therefore, Harry decided that in his world, five days was considered a week and that he didn't care what Rushman had to say – he was getting out of that hospital wing.

I had wheeled him around the place once or twice, but whenever it looked like he was about to fall asleep – which was often due to his pain meds – I would wheel him straight back, going against his weak and drowsy arguing of 'I'm fine.. I'm not even tired...'.

"I have checked and rechecked him, Ethan. He's fit to go. I advised a week as a precaution. Two more days in here would probably make him fresher – yes. But there's no reason he has to stay here for medical purposes. And besides, I'm genuinely afraid his death glares are going to kill me one of these days!" Rushman laughed.

I liked him, but I still couldn't stop the worry that this was too soon. I trusted nobody but Harry so I eyed Rushman cautiously before nodding.

I had gone through hell and back during the eight days he was out. Every time I thought I saw his eyelids flutter, it would be nothing. Every time a machine started beeping, I would jump from my chair and run for the nearest nurse. Every time I slept, which was a rarity, I would have nightmares of evil people, taking him away. Of waking up in a church, standing on a podium, giving my speech at his funeral.

It was horrible. I often woke up and ran straight to the bathroom to vomit up the little food I had consumed that day.

Jennifer, Harvey and Hugh were my rocks. Actually, scratch that. Jennifer and Harvey were my rocks. Hugh was an utter wreck. He cried all the time – at breakfast, at meetings we had to discuss our options - everywhere, all the time. Whenever he visited Harry was the worst. He would just sob and stare at him.

I knew that Harry would have told him to 'man up' if he was awake. When I said that to Hugh, to try and calm him, he just cried harder wheezing that he was 'going to miss him so much'.

Statements like that never boded well with me. It was when Hugh started getting morbid I would kick him out of the hospital room.

I left Rushman's office and walked the short distance to Harry's room. The hospital wing of the mansion was quite extensive. There were six hospital rooms with three on-call nurses and Rushman overseeing everything. It was all state of the art – the best of the best was all Harvey and Jennifer would accept, after all. That was why Harry had such a remarkable recovery... I didn't want to think of what the medical expenses would have been, had we gone to a hospital that actually charged its patients.

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