Emily Blair forced herself to relax her left leg, carefully adjusting her ankle even as she gritted her teeth against the pain threatening to escape her lips.
That sudden, inexplicable cramp in her calf was the kind of agony that could make anyone break, and, for all her composure, even Emily couldn’t bear it. Within moments, a fine sheen of sweat had gathered across her forehead.
It took several minutes before the pain finally began to ebb, leaving her limp and exhausted on the bed, her face pale and her lips parched.
After a while, thirst crept in. Slowly, she propped herself up with both arms, reaching for the glass on her nightstand.
As soon as she lifted it, she set it back down.
Empty. She couldn’t even remember when she’d finished the last of the water.
With a weary sigh, she scooted herself toward the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her aching left ankle. She reached for the thermos on the floor, figuring she could pour herself a drink.
But as soon as she picked it up, she realized that was empty too.
Emily closed her eyes, letting out a rare, defeated breath.
At this hour, both Emma George and the housekeeper had long since gone home. That left her on her own, and she hated to trouble the hospital nurses any more than necessary.
She opened her eyes again and carefully pulled her wheelchair over from beside the nightstand. Once it was positioned next to the bed, Emily gingerly lifted her left leg, maneuvering it to the edge.
She pressed her lips together, gathering her strength. Bracing herself with both arms against the mattress and pushing off with her right leg, she managed to shift her body into the wheelchair. After she’d settled, she eased her left leg onto the footrest.
By the time she finished, sweat was beading along her hairline again.


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