Page 6 of Lovely Deceit

The thought hits me like a falling anvil. Dad might’ve known what was going to happen. He knew they were coming for me, but what about the other parts? I shiver at the memory of how lost he looked when he told me to be strong.

Oliver and I are silent all throughout the nurse inspecting my ankle and when they bring in a mobile x-ray machine. We sit for a half an hour until the doctor comes in with the news. Dislocated ankle, but no fractures. I got away easy with a bad sprain.

If he only knew…

“We’re going to need to do a closed reduction, which just means I’m going to move your bones back in place. We’ll give you a local anesthetic to numb the pain.”

Oliver grimaces, and I can tell he’s beating himself up. I give him a small smile. “There goes my polo career.”

He doesn’t so much as look at me in return. Addressing the doctor, I say, “That sounds…doable,” when I really want to say that sounds like it will fucking hurt but I don’t want Oliver to feel any worse than he already does. “Is that it?”

“That, pain meds, and staying off it for several weeks, and you’ll be as good as new.”

I turn toward Ollie but he just sits there while the doctor calls for a nurse to assist, watches them prepare a syringe for the numbing agent, then moves toward me when the doctor pushes the needle into my skin.

I hiss, and he grips my thigh like he’s the one getting the shot.

“Ready?” the doc asks several moments later.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I say through clenched teeth but it comes out more strained than I’d like.

Oliver grabs my hands and doesn’t complain as I crush them when they manipulate my ankle into place with a quick jerk. I open my mouth in a silent scream. When the doctor turns away, I let out a litany of curse words under my breath while staring down at my traitorous leg.

The feeling of having my ankle once more in the correct position is overshadowed by the pain searing through my foot.

It’s almost like having Oliver with me right now. It’s right. Us together feels good. But that doesn’t make up for the fact that everything else is fucked.

3

Eden

Thank God for pain meds.

I awaken as Oliver opens the car door under an overhead foyer. My eyes are scratchy. I rub them while attempting to help get myself to my feet. My ankle is in a boot, and I have crutches so I can walk unassisted, but Oliver insists on manhandling me until I’m cradled in his arms.

I lay my head on his shoulder. “People are going to think we’re weird.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

“I know,” I yawn. I’m too sleepy to care right now either.

My eyelids flutter closed until he sets me down in a faux-leather chair in the seating area opposite a check-in desk. “I’ll be back,” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to my forehead.

The activity in the lobby helps keep me awake. People gawk as they walk by, and I can only imagine I look the picture of God knows what. Someone who almost drowned, dislocated their ankle, and relived thei—

Nope. Nope. Not going to think about that. Can’t think about that.

I take a deep breath.

Oliver comes back over a few minutes later and swoops in like Prince Charming to carry me down the hall. Luckily, our room is on the first floor, secluded at the end farthest away from the breakfast area and the pool that no one’s using because it’s too damn cold out.

I take the key card from his mouth and wave it in front of the door’s sensor to unlock it. A king bed sits in the middle of the room. Along the far wall are drawn curtains. In typical hotel room fashion, the long, wall air conditioner sits underneath the drapes and is currently not blowing anything. He lays me on the bed and tells me he’ll be right back.

I conk out again until I hear him swipe the key, and he comes strolling in with a plastic bag and my crutches. Watching him makes me smile. The other thoughts try to black out this one, but I don’t let them. Oliver’s taking care of me. He’s literally been taking care of me this whole time. He moved to the US; enrolled at Carnegie; pledged the Knights because I dragged him into it; and he dove headfirst into helping me find out what happened to Dee.

He drops the things on the low desk and turns. Finding me awake, he walks toward me and kneels on the carpet in front of the bed. “Do you want to take a shower? Do you just want to sleep?”

I probably should take a shower, but I can’t bring myself to right now. I shiver, remembering the water clogging up my lungs and being too frozen to do anything about it.

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