Page 56 of Trail to Trouble
Hunter shifted and pain ripped through his shoulder. His mother’s eyes watered at his grimace.
“Do you need something for the pain? I can go get the nurse,” Mom offered.
He drew in a long breath. “No, I’m fine.”
He shifted on the bed, trying to sit up straighter. The pain was no less this time than it was a few seconds ago. The good news was that when he stopped moving, the pain subsided, except for the throbbing in his head. That stayed constant and hurt enough to be distracting.
“I want to see Hannah. Cap, can I use your phone?”
His brother pulled his phone from the holder on his hip. “I’ll call City Hall for you and see what’s going on and ask about Hannah. I’ll be right back,” his brother said as he quickly ducked out of the room.
Why wouldn’t he just let him use the phone? Was there something more going on?
“Hannah’s okay, right?” he asked Mom.
“She’s fine, dear...”
“Then why...”
“Just let your brother do this for you. You need to rest. In fact, you should probably just lie back and close your eyes. With your concussion, your brain needs to rest.”
Concussion. That would explain the pounding in his head. Mom hadn’t mentioned a concussion before. Or, because of it, did he not recall all of what she said? Was there more wrong with him?
“Concussion?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else I should know about besides the shoulder, ribs, and concussion?”
Mom and Dad shared a glance. A lump the size of a golf ball clogged his throat. It was the kind of glance where he knew something was wrong and they didn’t want to tell him.
He choked down the lump. “What...what’s wrong?”
“It’s not that bad,” Mom said as she reached forward and placed her hand softly on his forearm.
Oh God, that maneuver made him worry more.
“What is it?”
“Your hair. They had to shave your hair to stitch up two nasty cuts on your head. It’ll be fine. It’ll grow back.”
His hand flew to his head. Bald. He was bald.
“I know how you feel about your hair. It’s just a matter of time, and your full head of hair will be back.”
Oh man, not his hair. He loved his hair. Women loved his hair.
“Oh, for God’s sake, you’re worried about your hair. You’ve been shot, your arm and ribs are broken, your head is stitched up, and your face is the color of an eggplant. Your hair will be fine,” Cici said with a roll of her eyes.
“Eggplant?”
His sister pulled a small mirror from her purse and held it in front of his bloodshot eyes. She wasn’t kidding. His skin couldn’t be more purple. Why that surprised him, he didn’t know, as he recalled tumbling and crashing into the rocky surface on his way down the falls.
“So, Hannah wasn’t hurt at all?”
Mom smiled warmly. “A couple of bumps and scratches. She said you wrapped around her, shielding her from taking any brunt of the fall. You probably saved her life. The doctor said if you weren’t in such great physical condition, your injuries would have been much worse.”
“And if your head wasn’t so hard,” Cap roused.
