Josh
The soft click of the door signaled the nurse's exit, leaving me alone with my family. I shifted slightly against the pillows, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the ache in my ribs and leg reminded me of the previous day's ordeal.
"She seems nice," Joanna said, breaking the brief silence. She was perched on the edge of the armchair near the window, her gaze following the nurse's retreat. "Efficient, too."
"She's just doing her job," I replied, my voice gruff. I wasn't in the mood for idle chatter, but knowing Joanna, she'd keep pushing.
"Doing her job and keeping you alive, apparently," David teased from his spot by the window, arms crossed. "So, what exactly happened, Josh? Mom said something about an accident at work?"
Mom, who had been quietly observing from the corner, turned her concerned gaze to me. "Yes, Josh, we've all been waiting for you to explain."
I sighed, realizing there was no escaping this conversation. "It wasn't anything dramatic," I started, but Joanna raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.
"Not dramatic? You ended up in the hospital," she pointed out. "That's not exactly a paper cut."
I shot her a look but continued. "Fine. We were testing a new assembly line for the motor components, and one of the machines malfunctioned. I was inspecting it when a conveyor belt jammed and threw one of the parts off balance."
"That doesn't sound like nothing," Clara said, her calm voice cutting through the room. She rarely spoke unless she had something important to add, and her words always carried weight.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," I assured them. "The part hit my side, and I lost my footing. Landed wrong, and that's how I ended up here. But everything's under control now."
"Under control?" David repeated, his brows furrowing. "You could've been seriously injured, Josh. Why were you even that close to the machines?"
"Because it's my job," I said, my tone sharper than I intended. "I can't just sit in the office and expect everything to run perfectly. Sometimes, you have to get your hands dirty."
Mom let out a soft sigh, shaking her head. "You work too hard, Joshua. I've always said that."
"Someone has to," I muttered, looking away. The weight of responsibility was something I'd grown used to, but explaining it to them always felt like a losing battle.
Joanna leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "We get that you're dedicated, Josh. But you can't do any of that if you're dead. You need to be more careful."
The room fell quiet for a moment, the weight of her words settling over us.
"Is the company okay?" Clara asked, breaking the silence.
"It's fine," I replied. "I already called Mr. Benson before after i was brought here. He's handling the situation, and the engineers are running diagnostics on the machines."
"Still," David said, his tone softening, "this should be a wake-up call. You can't do everything, Josh. You need to delegate more."
"I'll think about it," I said, though I didn't mean it. Delegating wasn't the problem. I just didn't trust anyone else to do the job right.
Mom stood and moved to my side, her hand resting gently on my arm. "We're just glad you're okay," she said, her voice filled with a warmth that made the ache in my chest feel a little lighter.
"Thanks, Mom," I murmured, meeting her gaze.
"Anyway," Joanna said, standing up and stretching, "you're stuck with us for a while. Don't expect to get rid of us anytime soon."
"Great," I replied, rolling my eyes but smiling faintly.
The room filled with quiet laughter, the tension easing as we fell back into familiar rhythms. Despite the pain and the frustration of being stuck in this bed, having them here felt… comforting.
*****************
The sunlight streaming through the window was warm, but it didn't do much to dull the ache in my ribs. I shifted in bed, biting back a groan as the tray of cold hospital food stared back at me like some kind of challenge.
A light knock pulled me from my thoughts. Josie stepped in with her usual calm professionalism, a clipboard tucked under her arm.
"Good morning, Mr. Josh," she said, her tone neutral but pleasant.
"Josh," I corrected with a faint smile.
"Right. Good morning, Josh." She moved to my bedside, her gaze flicking to the untouched breakfast tray. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"Better than yesterday," I admitted, leaning back against the pillows. "But this bed still feels like a medieval torture device."
That earned me a small smile as she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm. "We'll see if we can make things a little more comfortable for you today."
As the cuff tightened, her eyes flicked back to the tray. "Have you eaten anything yet?"
I glanced at the eggs and toast, grimacing. "Not yet. Hospital food isn't exactly five-star dining."
She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "It's not, but you need to eat something before I can give you your medications."
I arched a brow, setting the fork down deliberately. "Is that a condition, Nurse Josie?"
"It is," she replied without missing a beat. "Medications on an empty stomach aren't ideal. Once you've eaten and taken them, I'll come back to dress your wounds."
That caught my attention. "Dress my wounds?"
"Yes," she said, making a note on her clipboard. "The doctor ordered a change in your dressings this morning. I'll need to check for signs of infection and make sure everything is healing properly."
I exhaled, picking up the fork reluctantly. "You really don't give a guy much of a choice, do you?"
"Not when it comes to your health," she said lightly, her focus already shifting to my chart.
I ate a few bites of toast, ignoring how dry it was, and washed it down with some water. She stood by patiently, occasionally glancing my way to ensure I wasn't just pushing the food around on the plate.
"Good," she said when I finally set the fork down. "Now, let me get your medications."
She returned a few moments later with a small tray, placing it on the bedside table. "Here you go. Just water these down, and we'll move on to the dressings."
I popped the pills one by one, washing them down as she busied herself arranging supplies on a nearby cart.
"Done," I said, leaning back and setting the cup aside.
"Great," she replied, pulling on a pair of gloves. "Now, let's take a look at those wounds."
She moved efficiently, unwrapping the bandages with practiced ease. I tried not to wince as the cool air hit the raw skin, though the slight tightening of her brow told me she noticed.
"Still a bit tender?" she asked, glancing up briefly.
"Yeah," I admitted. "But manageable."
Her fingers worked gently but firmly, cleaning the area with antiseptic. The sting was sharp, but her touch was careful, almost soothing.
"You're healing well," she said after a moment. "No signs of infection so far, which is a good sign."
"That's reassuring," I muttered, watching as she began reapplying fresh bandages.
"You'll need to take it easy for a while," she added, securing the last piece of tape. "No heavy lifting, no unnecessary movement."
"I'll do my best," I said, though we both knew that wasn't a promise I could easily keep.
She straightened, pulling off her gloves and tossing them into the bin. "All done. I'll check on you again in a few hours, but if you need anything before then, just hit the call button."
"Thanks," I said, my voice softer than I intended.
She paused at the door, glancing back with a small smile. "Take it easy, Josh."
As the door clicked shut behind her, I found myself staring at the fresh bandages, her words echoing in my head. No heavy lifting, no unnecessary movement.
For someone like me, that was going to be the real challenge.