"My heart rate is not your fucking problem. I'm not your patient," he tried to argue, but he also let Robby gently free him from the knot of sheets he'd gotten himself into. He did feel much less trapped once his remaining foot was free and a sheet end wasn't wound tightly around the end of his residual limb.

He flopped back onto the pillow away from the edge of the bed and tried to breathe normally as he stared at the texture on the ceiling of the bedroom. Robby was probably going to sit on the edge of the bed and there was room for him to do that.