Page 30 of Top Shelf
“M’m.”
I could barely see the outline of my mom. She was wearing a very bright blue kameez over jeans and a matching scarf that had fallen behind her head. That told me she was stressed and had been pulling on it the way she did when she was anxious.
And if she was here—if she was at my bedside—I must have been out for a long, long time.
“Oh, beta. Oh, my baby,” she said, turning away from the doctor and grabbing my arm. The movement made me hyperaware that I had an IV in the top of my hand. She lifted it and kissed my wrist to the left of the tube. “Are you okay? Are you thirsty? You can’t have food until your surgery.”
I blinked my second eye open, and everything looked a bit less wobbly. When I tried to shift my legs, my right one moved, but my left felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I glanced down to see that it was in some sort of…device straight out of a horror movie.
“What is this?” I rasped.
The doctor stepped into my view. “It’s called skin traction. It’s keeping your leg stable. It’s not permanent.”
That was good. I guess. “What happened? How long was I out?” My throat was aching.
She frowned. “Do you have a concussion? That doctor said you didn’t. I’m going to have his job, just you watch! Excuse me?—”
“Mama.”
She froze and looked back at me.
“Do I have a concussion?”
She gave my hair a gentle pet, and I realized then nothing in my head hurt. It was just everything else that was agony. “The doctor said you don’t.”
“And I was right.” The doctor reappeared in my sightline and looked down at me. “How are you feeling?”
“Confused.”
“You’ve had a lot of pain medication, and your body went into temporary shock. The amnesia is normal,” he said, then lifted his hand when my mom sucked in a breath to yell at him again. “You seem more cognizant now. You’ve been in and out for about sixteen hours. We’re prepping you for surgery in the morning. You’re getting a pin in your tibia and repairing the talofibular ligament, which is in your ankle.”
I wrinkled my nose. I’d taken anatomy my sophomore year and hated every second of it. “I can’t move my leg.”
“You have a pretty bad break right now,” he said. “And we’re trying to stabilize your leg so you’ll make a full recovery.”
My heart slipped into my throat and threatened to choke me. “I’m…I have to start camp soon.”
“Your mom explained everything to me,” he said, probably more patiently than most doctors would have been. “I have absolute faith you’re going to make a full recovery, okay? We’ve spoken to your team physician and your coach and assured them that if you take the rest of the semester off from yourcollegiate team and are very faithful in your PT, you’ll be fine for camp this summer.”
The relief was so profound I almost felt like throwing up. Then the fear hit me again because while the doctor was confident, he couldn’t assure me I would be fine. Just over a month ago, I’d lost my virginity to a man whose entire career had been derailed by an accident just like mine.
Or, well, sort of like mine.
I actually had no idea what happened to me.
“How did I get hurt?”
“I will be calling the city,” my mom started.
I squeezed her hand and looked at the doctor, who sighed. “From the report, it seems you narrowly avoided getting hit by the trolley, but unfortunately, a car was coming through the area above the speed limit and wasn’t able to stop in time.”
That’s right. I sort of remembered that. I had been getting food for me and Colton. Oh no. I hope he hadn’t gone hungry because of me.
“Your friends came by earlier,” my mom said as the doctor began to poke at my toes. “I told them you could see them later when I take you back to the house for your things.”
I blinked at her. “My…things?”
“You can’t stay there, beta,” she said, petting my hair again. “The stairs.”
