Page 44 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

The afternoon was chilly. She wore a T-shirt and jeans. He slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around her. In the car, he buckled her into the seat and turned up the heating.

‘I thought it was a sprain,’ she said. ‘And I might feel better in the morning. When I got home from the park, I made a sling and took a few painkillers, but it throbbed all day and all night. Even the tiniest movement hurts. I haven’t slept a wink.’

‘You should have called someone,’ he scolded.

‘Sunday morning is the busiest time in the emergency ward – because of all the injuries that happen on Saturday night. They were understaffed. I’ve been here for six hours.

It’s broken in two places and a little piece of bone has chipped off the side.

’ Once more, tears welled in her eyes. ‘I can’t do anything,’ she said.

‘At the hospital, a nurse bought me a coffee, and I couldn’t even take the lid off a disposable cup. ’

‘You’ll need help for a week or two, but after that, you’ll manage. ’

The Citroen glided over every pothole in the road, and she was thankful for the smooth ride.

‘I can’t get dressed. I can’t take a shower. Or tie my shoelaces. Or do up my buttons. What am I going to do? I can’t knit?’ She could also add a broken heart to her list of ailments.

‘It’s only six weeks.’

‘Eight!’

‘Eight weeks. You can wear slip-on shoes. The coffee cup you can open with your teeth.’

She looked at him. ‘You’ve broken your arm before?’

‘Both wrists and an arm.’

‘Then you know how much it hurts. I’ve never in my life been in this much pain.

I had no idea broken bones hurt this much.

I can’t drive. I can’t shower – did I say that already?

’ She sighed, turned and looked out the window.

‘Arms are more important than you realise. This car is very smooth. I appreciate the hydro…’

‘Hydropneumatic suspension.’

‘Yes, that. Thank you for picking me up.’

Oliver parked the Citroen outside Mia’s house. He helped her inside. In the kitchen, he put on the kettle and set out the cups for tea.

‘Broken bones need rest. First, I’m going to run you a bath.’ He opened the pharmacy bag. Inside was a waterproof sleeve for her cast.

‘When can I take my painkillers?’ she asked.

He scratched his neck. ‘The thing is, they’ve given you more paracetamol.’

‘Are you kidding me!’

‘It’s what they give you for broken bones.’ The kettle boiled and Oliver poured the tea. There was bread in the pantry and he placed a slice in the toaster. When the tea brewed, he handed her a cup.

‘Seriously, I don’t think I’m going to survive.’ She blew into her mug.

‘You will. And I have something to help you sleep.’

‘I don’t need something to help me sleep. I need something for the pain.’ She sipped her tea. ‘When will Snood be back?’

‘He’s having a sleepover at my place. Tash and Mary are over the moon. They’ve made a kennel out of pillows in her bedroom.’

Mia smiled.

When the toast was ready, he covered it with butter and spread the jam right to the edge. Then he cut it into four and handed her the plate. ‘Broken bones need food.’

She ate slowly, enjoying the combination of hot tea and sweet toast. It was a memorable meal. ‘You make excellent tea and toast,’ she said.

‘It’s my speciality. Now, we’re going to get you undressed and into the bath.’

‘I can do that myself.’

‘How?’ He looked straight at her, expecting an answer.

Holding back tears, she breathed through her nose. Tired and bewildered, she realised the best course of action was submission. ‘I feel like a child,’ she said.

‘You’re not a child. You’re an adult with a broken arm who needs help. Surrender.’

She nodded.

First, he kneeled at her feet and slipped off her shoes, then he removed her socks. If circumstances were different, she might have run her hand through his beautiful curls.

He instructed her to stand. Deftly, he undid the buttons on her jeans and pulled them down over her thighs. With the help of her free hand, she wiggled out of them.

As he removed the sling, she closed her eyes.

Having his face so close was difficult. At any moment, she thought he might lean closer and kiss her neck or whisper something impossibly romantic in her ear.

Even touching her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ear, would be lovely. She tilted her head a little, hoping.

‘Arms up,’ he ordered.

Opening her eyes, she raised her arms.

Carefully, he helped her out of her T-shirt, pulling it over her head and tugging at the sleeve of her broken arm. Her bra clip was next. As he pulled the straps over her shoulders, she drew her arms over her breasts.

Then he wrapped her in a towel. With her free hand, she clutched the ends under her chin.

What she needed right now was a hug. It didn’t have to be a big, consuming bear hug that squeezed the life out of her.

He could simply wrap his arms around her, pull her into his chest and kiss the top of her head.

Or her forehead. Or the side of her face.

That would be enough to sustain her. To know he still loved her. The kiss was optional; the hug was not.

With her eyes closed, she waited. When no hug was forthcoming, she opened her eyes and turned to face him. ‘Oliver?’

‘Yes, Mia.’ He was covering her plaster with the waterproof sleeve.

‘There are things I need to say to you. I’ve been thinking and?—’

‘It can wait until you’re feeling better. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Oh, so you’re staying?—’

‘Not overnight. I can’t…’

‘Of course. I didn’t expect… ’

‘I’ll run you a bath.’

In Mia’s wardrobe, Oliver found a pair of sweatpants, a clean T-shirt, and her favourite pink hand-knitted socks.

Then, picturing her wearing her pink socks and nothing else, he replaced them with a navy pair.

Her underwear drawer was an adventure he was not looking forward to – so many memories. He was in and out in record time.

When she was out of the bath and dry, he passed her the clothes but waited by the bathroom door in case she needed help.

She emerged dressed, but glassy-eyed, with flushed cheeks. The temptation to hold her was strong. He made sure to keep her at arm’s length.

‘Why do broken bones hurt so much?’ she asked.

‘Because they’re bones.’ Seeing her face covered in tears triggered an internal alarm inside him that tugged at his heart. ‘Hey, it’s going to be okay. Every day will be easier than the last. Time heals – you just have to get through it.’

‘I don’t see how it’s going to be okay. I can’t do anything. I’m practically useless.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Oliver, I can’t knit.’

Her lips quivered. She was so sad.

‘I know. I’ve ordered you a pizza.’

‘Thank you. I haven’t eaten a thing, except for the excellent tea and toast, the pizza has a lot to live up to.’

He made a cosy corner for her on the window seat with pillows and a rug.

Then he poured her a small glass of wine.

‘I’ll be back in the morning.’ Beside her bed, he left a glass of water and four loose paracetamol tablets.

‘Take two every four hours.’ From his pocket, he pulled a foil sleeve.

‘I’m giving you half an Endone. It will take the edge off the pain and help you sleep. ’

Her eyes lit up. ‘Can I have a whole one?’

‘You only need half.’

‘I’m not good with pain – of any kind. Emotional or physical. And I’ll be scared without Snood. I have a primordial fear of the darkness.’

‘My phone will be on – call me if you need anything.’

‘Oliver, I really need to talk to you. There are so many things I want to say. And I have to explain about…’

‘Later. This is not the time. Tash and Mary have probably eaten their body weight in pretzels.’