My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 295

“The doctor said I’ll need to stay a few more days for observation, but if all goes well, I’ll be out by next week,” Emily Blair announced, her tone brisk and confident. “And don’t worry about my studies—I won’t fall behind. I can keep up with everything right here.”

She lifted her chin and nodded toward the backpack at the foot of her bed. “See? Mr. Lane already had someone bring over all my books and notes.”

Emily had to admit, Andrew Lane always seemed to do exactly what she needed, sometimes before she even asked.

Between preparing for the Starlight Piano Competition and everything else, she hadn’t had time to review her coursework lately. Now that she was stuck in the hospital for a few days, she could finally catch up.

Andrew Lane reached into her backpack, pulled out a workbook, and flipped through it absentmindedly. “Her ankle’s fractured. I’ll arrange for a nurse to come take care of her.”

Emma George’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s wonderful—”

“I said I don’t need that,” Emily broke in sharply, cutting Andrew off.

She shot Emma a meaningful look.

Emma caught on and quickly nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Lane, but it’s really not necessary. I’ll take care of her myself. Wouldn’t dream of troubling you.”

Andrew snapped the workbook shut with a sharp clap, his expression unreadable. “It’s no trouble. There’s nothing more to discuss. The nurse will start tomorrow.”

Emily frowned as Andrew slid the workbook back into her bag.

“So, Andrew Lane, was that your only reason for coming here?” she asked, watching his face closely for any flicker of emotion.

His eyes were dark, his voice low and measured. “I’ve said everything that needed to be said. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten.”

Of course Emily remembered his words.

He’d said, “This ends here.”

Emily sighed, exasperated. “Mom, I promise it’s nothing. Please don’t overthink it.”

“If nothing’s wrong, then why are you lying here in a hospital bed?”

Emily groaned and rubbed her forehead, then threw back the covers and slid down, burying herself under the blanket.

Her voice muffled but resolute, she insisted, “Mom, just let it go. Please.”

Emma patted the blanket gently. “You stubborn child.”

“Fine, fine, have it your way,” Emma conceded, her tone softening. “I’ll go get you some fruit.”

Once her mother left, Emily reached for her phone, intent on checking the latest chatter online about Vivian Martin and Isabella Austin.