Page 24 of Falling for a Grumpy Hero
FORD
I tried refusing to go to the emergency room. It was just a scratch, even if it was the same leg that I’d hurt in the accident years ago and it was throbbing and aching all over again.
Lila, in turn, had refused to listen to me, so here I was, sitting in a snug exam room at a local urgent care and she was right next to me.
Her foot tapped incessantly against the sterile white tiles on the floor and she glared at the smart watch on her wrist, harsh sighs coming out of her every so often.
To an outsider, we probably looked like an old married couple, with me being the senile old man and her being the wife who knew everything about him and had to go to all his appointments to explain his history.
I grimaced at the thought, but at the same time, it was kind of nice not to be waiting for the doc to come back all alone.
Alone was how I’d gone through it the last time I’d hurt this leg. It was part of the reason I hadn’t wanted to see the inside of an examination room ever again.
The cold fluorescent lights flickering above and the slightly sweet scent of the antiseptic chemicals brought back way too many memories. I kept waiting for a flashback. A stab of terror so real that my bones would lock up.
But it didn’t come.
Every time the edges of my vision started blurring, Lila would somehow bring me out of it. This time, she did it by suddenly shooting to her feet and muttering under her breath as she paced the short stretch in front of the bed I was sitting on.
“This is ridiculous.” She twisted the edges of her braid around her fingers, her brow puckered. She glanced at the closed curtain blocking the hallway from view. “How long does it take to read an x-ray? Where are they?”
“They’re working. Unlike us.” Pain pulsed in my leg and I clenched my jaw to keep from snapping at her about the fact that we had better things to do. “They’ll be here soo?—”
The curtain slid open with the tinkling zip of plastic rings against the metal railing. The doctor, an older guy carrying a clipboard, came in and drew the curtain shut again before he looked at me. “You’re going to need stitches, Mr. Callahan.”
I waited for him to continue and say, “ That’s it. No harm done ,” but I could already feel that wasn’t the case. The expression on his face was too severe, his features too tight as he held my gaze.
That meant the cut was the least of my worries. The real damage was internal. Fuck, what a freak accident.
One of the roofers had had a misstep and careened through the rafters, falling hard right on top of me.
The impact had sent me slamming into the work table and I’d somehow sliced my leg open on the corner.
I’d really thought it was just a cut, but the way the doc was looking at me said I’d been wrong.
“The scans showed a minor tear in one of the tendons in your knee,” he explained, eyes somber and serious on mine. “We’re also going to be referring you out for PT. I strongly suggest that you attend those sessions, son.”
I sighed but nodded. Lila, meanwhile, came up close to my side and started talking to him, asking dozens of questions about how to care for stitches and what to expect from the PT.
Obviously, she didn’t know that I’d once spent three months in a hospital and already knew all this stuff, but somewhere deep down inside, I appreciated her concern.
Even if I was in too much pain and was too much of an asshole to come right out and say it.
“Will the cut be bandaged?” she asked. “How often do we need to change that? Have you got someone who can show me how to do it? Can the stitches get wet? How long will they stay in? Do we bring him back here to remove them?”
On and on she went, but the doctor seemed relieved that she was taking it so seriously, patiently answering each question before he finally left, letting us know a nurse would be in shortly to do the stitches.
“You can go now,” I muttered once he was gone. “I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”
Those light blue eyes widened and she scoffed, delicate hands falling to her hips like she was preparing to take a stand. “I’m not going anywhere and you’re not allowed to stand up yet, so you can’t chase me out.”
“You want to stay while they place the stitches?” I frowned. “Are you one of those people who enjoys blood and gore?”
Her cheeks paled a bit. “No, but I am one of those people who knows how to support my friends. I’m also one of those people who will keep my mouth shut if you squeal like a piglet while they’re putting those stitches in, so go for it. Don’t hold back on my account. You don’t have to be shy.”
I exhaled deeply through my nostrils. “Fine. Stay.”
Another zip of plastic against metal rang out and this time a nurse came in. She had a steel tray in her hands and a sympathetic smile on her lips. “How are you feeling, sir? I heard I’m sewing up your leg?”
I nodded, happy for her to do what she needed to without making a fuss about it, but naturally, that wasn’t how Lila rolled. She came straight back to my side, planting herself firmly on the mattress beside me. Then she reached for my hand and took it in a firm grip.
“Okay,” she murmured under her breath. “Just relax. You’re going to be fine.”
The nurse rolled a stool closer and sat down, preparing what she needed on her tray before turning a small glass bottle upside down and piercing the film with a syringe, slowly drawing some liquid into it.
Lila winced and tightened her grasp on my hand, looking everywhere but at my injury or the nurse.
“Were you talking to me or to yourself?” I grunted but let her hold my hand if that was what she needed. “You really will be okay. Just relax, Lila.”
She rolled her eyes, but before she could say whatever she’d been about to, the nurse spoke up. “Alright, Mr. Callahan. I’m going to be using some local anesthetic to numb the area. You’ll feel a little pinch with the injection, then we’ll give it a minute before we get you all fixed up.”
Lila blanched but flashed the nurse a forced smile. “Thank you so much. We really appreciate this. He didn’t even want to come. I’m so glad we did. This seems a lot more serious than he thought.”
“Men.” The nurse gave me a good-natured wink before she tore open a tiny white square and drew some kind of wipe out of it. She swiped it across my skin, but I barely felt its cool wetness or the pinch of the needle over the throbbing hot pain of the actual injury.
Lila, however, still hadn’t looked at all. “I’ve always admired nurses, doing the work you do for people who are in pain and would mostly rather be anyplace else. This guy, for example, would rather be back at work, bleeding all over the site where he got injured.”
She chuckled. “It’s a really good thing you brought him in. This wound could’ve gotten infected in a heartbeat and it would’ve made for a nasty recovery. And for the record, I’m the best in the clinic at stitches. We should get it looking nice and smooth.”
I already had nasty scars, but she was either kind or modest enough not to mention those.
Lila kept chatting to her and I gritted my teeth, but the anesthetic was helping a little.
Once the stitches were in, the nurse rolled back the stool and stood up, snapping off the gloves and striding over to a trash can mounted on the wall to drop them in.
“You’re lucky to have such a caring girlfriend, sir. Keep that dry and clean for now, okay?” Before I could correct her, she strode out of the exam room and Lila gave me a smug look.
“You hear that? You’re lucky to have me here. Now, let’s get you home.”
“I can get myself home.”
“Nope.” She gave me a sweet but stubborn smile, even batting her lashes a little bit. “I’ve still got your keys and there’s no way you’re driving yourself after all that.”
I groaned, but I was still in too much pain to argue. Sliding off the bed, I half-hobbled, half-limped to the truck and gave her my address once we were in it, but I refused to let her help me walk or climb in.
Her features were tight with frustration, but she kept up a stream of cheerful chatter as we drove to my house. I was cognizant of the fact that this was the first time she’d seen it, but I was in a mood, hurting, and short with her when she let out a low whistle as she parked outside.
“A single-family home, huh?” she asked, smiling up at the historic house I’d renovated myself. Not that she had any way of knowing that. “Funny, I was convinced you lived in a bachelor pad. Maybe a fancy penthouse with no furniture and lots of glass and steel.”
“Why do you give a fuck where I live?” I snapped, immediately feeling bad about it when I saw the hurt that flickered in her eyes. “Okay, look. I’m sorry. I just need some painkillers.”
“Of course, you do. Have you seen your leg? That’s exactly why I took you to the doctor and why I brought you home.” She sighed and climbed out of the truck, and I opened my door and nearly shouted at the pain of getting out, but I didn’t want her trying to help me again.
“I’ve got it from here.” I looked directly into those blue eyes, and as much as I didn’t want her to leave, I needed her to. “Thanks for your help, but I’m fine.”
“Buck up, Ford. I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
She shot me another smile. “Oh, but it is.”
Since it looked like she’d already made up her mind, I didn’t try to talk her out of it, just rolling my eyes as I turned and limped to the front porch.
She still had the keys to my truck, but since I didn’t even know where she’d left her bicycle, or how she’d wound up arriving at Heritage House with our client, I was assuming she was just going to drive herself home in it.
I didn’t give a crap. All I needed was a handful of pills.
By the time I made it to my front door, I still hadn’t heard the engine turning over and I frowned, twisting to see why she was still there. She hadn’t even climbed into the truck yet and instead was chatting to some of my neighbors who were out walking.
I’d lived in this neighborhood for years and I’d successfully managed to avoid them, but here Lila was, on her first visit, and she was making friends. Despite the day she’d had and my attitude, she was still smiling and animated while she spoke.
How is she always so happy? So sunny. She’s just a constant ray of light.
I honestly had no clue how she did it, or how she could care about someone like me. But at the barbecue, she’d said she did and her actions today had proven it.
Some way, somehow, the sunshine itself had come to care about me. And it felt good. So why is it so hard for me to just let her in?