tomorrow.”
“If only. I’ll be out of here by the weekend.”
“So soon? I thought you’d be in here for a few more weeks. Maybe even a month.”
“Not a chance. No way am I sticking around here for the next four weeks.”
“Four to six weeks.” The nurse she’d spoken to earlier bustled into the room and cleared away his dinner tray. “And you’re lucky you’re young and healthy or it would be a darn sight longer than that.”
Ike shrugged. “My season’s pretty much done either way.”
“That’s no way to look at it.” The nurse tutted. “And this behavior is unacceptable. If you can’t treat my staff with respect, I’ll come in here and stick a feeding tube down your throat. Got it?”
Tracy’s lips twitched. She could tell Ike wanted to dare the nurse to try it, but wisely bit his tongue.
“Yeah,” he huffed. “Tell the girl I’m sorry. It burned my butt to have a kid treating me like I was some old dude in a wheelchair.”
“It’s your own fault. How exactly had you planned to eat steak by yourself?”
“I didn’t think of that. I was sick of soup—I’ll float away if I eat any more—so I ordered something I could get my teeth into. Next time, I’ll order a sandwich or something I can eat one-handed.” He made it sound like cyanide with a side order of arsenic.
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