Page 31 of Ronen
Chapter Eleven
Mason
Drumming my fingers across my bare thigh, I waited impatiently for my brother to pick up his phone.
Hank had shown up at the hospital to check in on me shortly after Jamie Sinclair had disappeared from my room. No lie, one second the man had been there, and then I had blinked, and he was literally gone.
Hank had driven me home and helped me get inside and settled. Once he had left, after assuring me that Ronen had not pushed me, I had managed to change out of my clothes, pulling on a pair of green and blue plaid sleep shorts and a navy T-shirt. Exhaustion from the day–and the night before with Cinnamon–plus the pain had me opting for comfort over style.
The boot on my ankle was a nuisance, as was maneuvering around on the broken bone. The hospital had sent me home with a pair of crutches, but after two steps I had tossed them in a corner. They were awful, pinching into my armpits, and slowingme down. I could limp along well enough in just the boot for the next day or two, as long as I didn’t put too much weight on it. Then I could ditch the thing entirely.
It was a relief to have confirmation that Ronen hadn’t pushed me. I hadn’t really thought he had when I had accused him, but I was sure I had felt someone’s hands on me, just before I had fallen.
Hank had told me that he had not only spoken to Ronen, but also the witnesses, and reviewed the security footage from the camera I knew was located at the front of the library.
No one had been behind me, or even around me. It was nothing more than a simple case of me tripping, possibly due to my exhaustion from being up all night. But the feeling of cold hands touching my back lingered like the remnants of a bad dream.
Sinking into the soft sofa cushions of my couch, I propped my leg on my coffee table, breathing a sigh of relief at getting off of it.
Pointing the remote at the television, I turned it on, then muted it. I needed to make some calls before I could try to relax and maybe get some sleep. When I had changed clothes, I had reluctantly downed a couple ibuprofen, hoping they didn’t make me too loopy.
Hank had been kind enough to remind me of my off key singing about Ronen and me kissing, and I had promptly told him he was fired. He’d laughed heartily, said he’d check on me tomorrow, and honked his horn as he’d driven away. Asshole.
I really hoped I hadn’t been singing for anyone to hear, since I knew I couldn’t carry a tune to save my life. The only people who remotely appreciated my efforts were my animals, and even they balked at times.
Shooting off a quick text to Micah Hawkins, the teenage kid that lived on the next farm over, I briefly explained about my accident and asked if he had time to stop by and feed and water the animals for me. He said he’d be over shortly, and I was relieved my babies would be taken care of.
Hobbling into the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of water, before slowly making my way back to my sofa.
Sweat was pouring off me by the time I managed to get myself and my leg situated once again. I knew the pain would be ten times better by tomorrow–I could already feel the bones knitting back together–but right now my heartbeat throbbed in my leg, and I was cursing my metabolism.
Pain pills–the strong kind–seemed like a real good idea about now, even if they did make me goofy.
Taking a drink, I thumbed over my contacts, until I found my brother’s name. It rang three times before connecting.
“How’s it hanging, Po Po?” Connor’s deep voice, laced with laughter, asked.
“You’re so not funny,” I told him dryly, leaning to put the bottle on the table.
“I’m fucking hilarious, and you know it!” he chortled, while I just shook my head. “What’s up little brother?”
“Where are you? Can you talk?”
“I’m watching Dad try to break a pretty little filly we just got,” Connor told me, and I could hear the sounds of ranch hands cheering in the background. “She’s not impressed at all. Papa, as usual, is pretending he’s not watching from the back door. Oof, Dad just hit the dirt.”
“When is he going to realize he’s getting too old to be on the back of unbroken horses?” I asked, staring morosely at the boot on my foot, and feeling just a bit sorry for myself.
I hated not being able to move around freely. Though I was thankful it was only for a few days and not six to eight weeks, like a human. I would lose my fucking mind if I had to wait that long to heal.
“Oh, probably when he’s dead,” Connor joked, but we both knew that was closer to the truth than not. Dad was a fourth generation rancher; it was in his blood, and he was happiest on the back of a horse. “Now, what’s up? You don’t usually randomly call me at…four in the afternoon.”
“Something’s happened and I need your advice,” I told him quietly, stretching to pick up the bottle of water I had just sat on the table.
My hands needed something to do, so I started picking at the label.
“You okay?” His voice turned serious, and I heard his concern.
“I had a bit of a tiny accident today.” I relayed the events of the day, starting with Cinnamon birthing her twins, the argument with Ronen, and me tripping and falling down the stairs. “Hank said I was singing about kissing Ronen,” I finished, not able to keep the horror out of my voice.
