When Roses Collide

Chapter Fifty-One

"Listen, I don't know what your circumstances are at home, and frankly, I don't give a shit. But, I will not stand to have this fighting and bickering disturbing every patient in this facility!" Doctor Archer stomped to his desk, and yanked out his chair, plopping his butt behind it. After taking a seemingly steadying breath, he looked up at the bunch of them. "Ms. Stewart is going to need a place where she can be monitored," he leveled them all an angry glare, "which means, you idiots need to come to some kind of agreement that satisfies me or I won't sign her release papers."

Travis watched as Doc Archer crossed his arms over his chest, his face set on full throttle stubborn. He'd been down right pissy since he broke up their discussion about who got to take Harley home, and wrangled their asses into his office. Scrubbing a palm behind his neck, he couldn't help feeling like he'd just been busted, and sent to the principal's. Travis had great respect for all members of the medical community, but this guy seemed to be more suited for work that didn't include dealing with the public.

"What do you mean, monitored?" Bo asked in his usual impatient way. The man definitely wasn't affected by the doctor's surly demeanor.

"I said her situation was no longer critical." His green eyes rolled heavenward before narrowing them at the group standing squished inside his office like cattle in a chute. "But she is not fully recovered. She needs to be constantly watched for complications. Any signs of excessive drowsiness, dizziness, nausea, confusion, memory problems...you need to bring her straight back here." He thumped a fist on his desk. "Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars, but fucking straight back here."

"Hey, there's an idea! We can play Monopoly!" Tanner chirped from the far corner, and Travis along with the others, groaned loudly. "What?" he asked, lifting his shoulders. "It's a wholesome way to pass the time, and it sounds like she's going to be laid up for a while, so we're going to need something to keep her entertained or she'll be bouncing off the walls in less than an hour." He looked from one unimpressed expression to the other. "I don't see any of you dickheads coming up with a plan," he muttered moodily.

"Jesus..." Doc Archer closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his forehead wrinkling as if he was in pain. "Have any of you listened to a single word I said?" Standing up, he started clicking off the instructions one by one on his fingers. "No video games, no board games, no texting, no using the computer, no television...no goddamn over stimulation for the next seven to ten days. Her brain needs to rest. Even though all those things seem simple enough, your brain has to work to keep track of shit, and what her brain needs is nice...quiet...downtime so it can heal." He let out a heavy sigh. "If you can't provide the right environment for her, I can recommend an intermediate recovery facility that can."

"We don't need your recommendations," Bo said stiffly, his jaw tightening to a stubborn line. "We take care of our own."

Travis stood next to him, and nodded his head in agreement. It would be over his dead body before he'd let this asshole ship his woman to only God knew where.

Doc Archer raised a disbelieving brow which completely disagreed with what Bo claimed. "Are you sure about that? Besides monitoring she will also need someone to prepare her meals, make sure she's eating properly, is taking her medications as prescribed, making sure she gets the help she needs so she is not over doing things, and most importantly...where she can get some rest with no incentive to over stimulate herself."

The last part of his snapped statement was focused solely at Travis, and he bristled. Yes, hearing the no sex rule when he had walked into her room took him by surprise, but he wasn't some fucking Neanderthal. He could control his hormones, and the fact the doctor was still insisting on busting his balls about it was grinding hard on his nerves.