Page 64 of Beautifully Broken Control

“Was the MRI really necessary?”

He scooted his chair closer to my bed. “Yes. There is plenty you can’t see on an x-ray.”

I rolled my eyes and then winced. God, even my eyeballs hurt. I felt like I needed to submerge my entire body in ice and not come out for days.

“What hurts?” Cain slipped his hand into mine.

There had been a lot of touching in the past few hours. Touching and terms of endearment and things that made my already scrambled brain scramble even more. What was going on? I didn’t dare ask because I didn’t want to risk it going away. “Pretty much everything hurts.”

“Where the hell is that doctor?” Cain growled. “You need pain meds.”

I squeezed his hand. “They have to read the x-rays and MRI before they give me anything, you know that.” The nurse had told him so. Repeatedly.

Cain let out a little huff of air. “Well, they could hurry up about it.”

“I’m sure they’re going as fast as they can. Just relax, would you? You’re stressing me out.”

“Sorry.” Cain’s focus moved from the daggers he was staring at the curtain to me, gentling. “Sorry.” He let out a long breath. “Do you know what happened? How you lost control?”

I hadn’t had a moment to really think about it. The whole thing was a bit fuzzy—thankfully so—but I remembered when the first lick of panic had set in. “My brakes. They wouldn’t work.”

Cain let out another growl. “Probably because that bike is older than Irma.”

I pressed my lips together to hold in my laugh, knowing it would only hurt. “I’m going to tell her you said that.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try and send me for one more test, and you’ll see.”

Cain’s thumb traced a pattern over the back of my hand. “No more tests.” He paused. “Unless the doctor says you need them.”

I groaned, but before I could say anything, the curtain pulled back, and a woman in a white lab coat appeared. She had a warm face, one that instantly put me at ease. Her tumble of curls was piled high atop her head, and she held what I assumed was my chart. “Ms. Charles, I’m Dr. Moseley. How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing okay, thanks.”

“She’s in pain,” Cain immediately cut in.

Dr. Moseley gave me a gentle smile. “That’s understandable, you took quite a tumble. As soon as I examine you, I’ll get a nurse in here with some pain meds.” She crossed to the bed, taking out a penlight. “The x-rays and MRI are clear, but I want to check you for a concussion. Are you nauseous at all?”

I bit down on my bottom lip. “Maybe a little.”

“What about dizzy?”

“Not really, but I haven’t stood up or anything.”

The doctor nodded. “Okay, I’m just going to shine this in your eyes to check your pupils.”

She flashed the light over my irises, and I winced.

“Is that uncomfortable?”

My hands fisted the blanket. “It’s not exactly rainbows and butterflies.”

Dr. Moseley chuckled. “I won’t put you through that again. It’s safe to say you have a mild concussion.” She reached down and pressed the nurse call button. “I’m going to have them give you an intravenous pain medication now, and I’ll write you a prescription for an oral medication you can have filled at your pharmacy.” The doctor glanced over at Cain. “Will you be taking care of her?”

I opened my mouth to say I could take care of myself, but Cain beat me to it. “Yes, she’ll be staying with me until she’s well.”

Dr. Moseley placed the penlight back in her pocket. “Perfect. You’ll need to wake her every few hours for the next twenty-four. If she shows any worsening symptoms—vomiting, memory loss, inability to stand—bring her back to the hospital immediately. But I don’t think that will be an issue.”

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