Page 132 of Here With Me
“Yeah, she was hangin’ on the side of a horse when he bucked and reared. Her foot was stuck, and I couldn’t get him to calm down. Tell your parents I’m takin’ her to the ER.”
I don’t waste another second, resisting the urge to chew him a new one, and put my truck in drive. Glancing back, I check on her and remind her to look at me.
“Everythin’ hurts.”
Her little pained whimpers have my heart seizing as flashbacks surface of when I hauled Lyla into the back seat of my truck. Even though it was clear she was gone, I hung on to hope the entire walk back and drive to the hospital.
I refuse to lose Noah. She’s the love of my life, and even if we can’t be together, I can’t go through another heartbreak. I wouldn’t survive it this time.
The impact of Donut breaking her ribs could’ve punctured a lung or blood vessel. She could have internal bleeding into her chest cavity for all I know. The long list of possibilities terrifies me.
Reaching back, I grab her hand. “Squeeze the pain away, love. Don’t let go.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Noah
Iconsider myself to have a high pain tolerance, but goddamn, everything hurts like a motherfucker. The nurse was in here at some point and gave me more pain meds, but they wore off, and now I need a double dose.
My hand fumbles around as I feel for the call button. As soon as I groan, Fisher’s on his feet and at my bedside.
“What do ya need, baby?” he asks.
“Pain...” I whimper, trying to hold my eyes open.
“More meds? Okay, hold on.”
He presses the button and asks if I need to readjust, but the thought of it has me shaking my head. Every inch feels like a mile, and I’d rather not move unless I have to.
The nurse enters with a smile, but her eyes linger on Fisher a moment longer than necessary. Of course he’s oblivious to it as he keeps all his focus on me. If I had an ounce of strength to spare, I’d tell her to keep her flirty gaze off him. But as long as she delivers what I need, I’ll save scolding her for another time.
“Hi, Noah.” Her voice is low but bubbly. “I have more morphine for you, but it’s gonna make you drowsy.”
“Good,” I whisper.
“Once I’m done, I’ll replace your ice packs. That should help your ribs.”
I manage to nod because it’s all I can do. My head pounds from the mild concussion, which is what the morphine is supposed to help with, along with every other inch of my body that’s suffering.
Everything was pure chaos from the moment Fisher carried me into the ER. They put me on a stretcher and rolled me into a room for a full-body examination. I remember screaming in pain as they checked my ankle and ribs. Once an x-ray ruled out any internal bleeding from my ribs, they took me in for a CT scan and found a fracture in my ankle. Then they wrapped it until a specialist could look at it to determine whether I need surgery.
My parents arrived within an hour of my being admitted and have been talking to the doctors about a recovery plan. I already know I’m going to have to stay off my foot for six to eight weeks, but I don’t want to hear it. Someone like me doesn’t have time to sit around for two months.
As soon as the meds hit my system, every part of me relaxes, and I grin.
“Better?” Fisher asks, brushing his hand over my cheek.
“Yeah. Can ya tell the doctor my ankle’s fine, and I won’t be needin’ surgery?”
“Considerin’ it’s black and blue, swelled up to the size of my fist, I doubt he’s gonna believe that.”
I frown. “Nothin’ ice can’t fix.”
He brushes loose strands of hair around my ear and smiles weakly. “Sorry, love. Even without surgery, they’re gonna tell you to stay off it. No gettin’ around that.”
I groan and drop it for now. “Is Donut alright? What about the snake?”
“Tripp got him to calm down and brought him back to his stall. He was shaken up, so they called the vet to give him some sedatives. The snake was found and disposed of.”
