Page 11 of Axe-ing for Trouble
Here and there, I missed that life, that version of myself.
But when I reminded myself of why I was doing this, the sadness over the loss of the woman I used to be faded. I’d given up my life to seek justice. I was on a mission, and I wasn’t about to stop now.
* * *
Willa arrived soon after,wearing a smile and toting a medical bag. She fussed over me and accepted a massive mug of coffee from Jude.
I’d been eager to see her, anxious to find out what I could do to ensure a quick recovery.
But when she examined me, especially when she prodded my back, my spirits fell.
“We’re looking at least one fractured rib,” she said, poking around.
Every time she used even a small amount of pressure, the pain that radiated through me brought a wave of nausea with it.
“I’m not sensing anything significant, but the bruising and swelling that developed overnight confirm it.”
Jude came into the room, his arms crossed with concern. “How bad?”
Willa turned to him, wearing a sad smile. “She’s banged up. I’d love an MRI of that shoulder and an X-ray of these ribs, but if that’s not an option, then I can keep an eye on things—”
“Yes.” I straightened, only to wince when pain rocketed through me.
“But only”—she eyed me—“if she agrees to take it easy.”
I grunted in response. The last thing I wanted was to take it easy. There was too much to do. I was so close, and from what I’d witnessed, something big was coming. I just needed to figure out where and when.
Willa produced antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, and painkillers and rattled off how many and how often I should take each one.
The instructions went in one ear and out the other, but luckily, Jude grabbed a notepad and scribbled them down for me.
She then helped me into a real sling. It was bulky and ugly but better than the pillowcase that had been looped around my neck.
“Wear this all day and night,” she explained. “Except while showering.”
“Even sleeping?”
“Yes.” She dipped her chin. “For the first week. Then I’ll examine you again and get a sense of how it’s healing. From there, we can reduce the amount of time you keep it immobile and start a regimen of wrist and elbow exercises to keep the blood flowing.”
“A week?”
She tipped her head, brow furrowed, her blond waves falling in her face. “Yes. It’s dislocated, and I suspect you’ve torn your rotator cuff. This isn’t a scrape on the knee, Mila.”
“How long…?” My tone was desperate, unhinged. I couldn’t help it. As badly as every cell in my body hurt, I couldn’t give up. Not after all the work I’d done. “How long until I’m back to normal?”
“Not sure. No less than a month. Maybe six weeks.”
“No,” I shouted, my heart lurching. I had work to do. I had to recover my phone and meet with the FBI. I needed to get the rest of my notes from my trailer. I couldn’t waste another minute.
They both gaped at me.
“Sorry.” I cleared my throat, dropping my gaze. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”
Willa patted my leg. “You’ve been through a lot, and your body is still processing. It’s important for you to rest, eat, and hydrate. Take the meds and let your body heal.”
My stomach twisted painfully. “I can’t stay here.”
“Sure you can. Jude’s not home much anyway. I bet Ripley would love the company.”
