Page 62 of Take Me to the Wedding

Had she always been this bossy? Or was that yet another thing I’d never noticed before? I think I had loved her once, a long time ago, when I was young. But I didn’t anymore. Not in a lasting, give-and-take way.

Also, I needed my phone, which was taken from me before my head CT scan. I’d quietly asked Brax to text Sam and find out how she was doing. He assured me that she was fine and also that they’d sent her all the updates about my sorry ass, in his words.

I was waiting for the okay to be discharged, and I couldn’t bust out of here quick enough. Meanwhile, Lilly patted my shoulder and stood so close our shoulders practically touched. “You saved that boy’s life. You’re a hero.”

To say that Dr. Blumenthal, the ortho doc that I had literally just interviewed with a few weeks ago, was a bit surprised on seeing me, not as a doctor but as a patient, was an understatement. Apparently, he helped to cover the ER in several small communities as well as in Oak Bluff. First of all, he’d laughed. Then he’d said, “Well, hello, Caleb. Glad to see you’re experiencing how our group operates firsthand, eh?”

Then he set my bone and put me in a short-leg cast and crutches, a routine I knew all too well. The pain was still dull and aching, but I felt grateful that things were taken care of. Despite the weeks of crutches and inconvenience, I would be good as new.

Except he probably thought I was an idiot.

I had a little concussion, was a little dehydrated, my leg a little bit broken, my pride a little bruised, but my head CT was okay, and they were booting me out.

At this point, I was also a lot starving.

I was also worried. My right leg was the broken one, and therefore I couldn’t drive. Which led to another question—how was I going to get to work next week? And all the weeks until my cast came off?

I had other worries too. Lilly was being awfully attentive. At one point, she’d even hand-combed my hair. And frankly, all of it was terrifying.

After my cast was done, the cast room tech had wheeled me back into my curtained partition in the ER. Brax and Gabe were each on their phones with suffering expressions on their faces, while Lilly leafed through magazines, sipping something from her giant sparkly pink tumbler. I felt guilty that they were all stuck here on a beautiful spring day.

Brax looked up as I was wheeled into my spot. “Hey, there you are. Whoa, neon green?” he exclaimed, checking out my cast.

“It’s very fashionable,” Lilly said.

“I love it,” Gabe said. “White is boring.”

I shrugged. “Since this is an extended body part for six weeks, hopefully green will hide some dirt. I figured the kids at the hospital would like it.”

Lilly checked her watch. “Glad you’re done. We’ll be back to the farm in time for the cookout and a bonfire.”

I suppressed a moan and forced a smile. I wanted to do a cookout and bonfire about as much as I wanted to get my bone set again. I’d had pretty much enough of farm weekend. All I wanted to do was go home, turn on a game, and put my foot up, which felt like a throbbing hunk of cast iron.

Lilly walked over and rested a hand on my shoulder. “I brought you something full of protein to hold you over until then.”

Oh hurray, food. She handed me a cardboard take-out container. I was appreciative for the thoughtfulness.

A peek inside revealed… lettuce. Lots of it. I mean, I like salad, but my appetite by this point was tomahawk-steak sized. Another glance revealed seeds, cranberries, couscous, and tofu—at least that’s what I thought that was—and kale. I loved healthy food but right now, my appetite was army tank sized. “Thanks,” I said in the most enthusiastic voice I could muster. Which, after all I’d been through, was probably not very much.

“I know you like meat, but it’s really not healthy for you,” she said. “Hope that’s okay. Do you need a pillow for your foot?” She reached down to adjust the pillow propped between my cast and the wheelchair right-leg rest, which was elevated.

As she adjusted the pillow, searing pain ripped through me—again.

At least it temporarily took away my appetite. I bit back any show of agony. “No, it’s fine,” I managed as my pain finally subsided. I caught Brax’s eye. It was full of doom-concern, the kind of look your bro gives you when they know things have gone south fast.

An ER nurse popped her head in our room. “Your paperwork’s almost ready. Someone can go get the car, and we’ll wheel you out to the parking circle in front of the ER. Sound good?”

Lilly left to go to the bathroom or something, and I was left with my friends, neither of whom were speaking. Brax bit down on his cheeks to keep from smiling.

“Eat your seeds,” he said.

“I blame you both for the über-healthy food choice,” I said.

“Lilly offered to grab you something,” Gabe said. “We didn’t have control of what.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s the thought that counts. Thanks for being here. Thanks for everything. I mean it.”

“We can order a pizza and grab it on the way back,” Brax offered.

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