Page 113 of Wild Ever After
“I was in the shower when you called. I threw on my sweats and shirt as fast as I could.”
Warmth spreads through me, but I don’t have time to dwell on it because Declan storms up to the front desk. He tells the receptionist who I am and what’s wrong with me. She wants him to fill out paperwork for me, but he shakes his head. “I’m not putting her down unless it’s for a doctor to look at her.”
She flushes. “Sir, I understand you want to stay with your girlfriend—”
“Wife,” he corrects her.
There’s some back and forth before she finally agrees to let him carry me to the back and fill out the paperwork in a chair next to my bed.
He’s focused hard on the task of answering a million questions about me, my health insurance, and medical history. Surprisingly, he knows most of it, without even asking. I lie back and watch him. Being with Declan just feels good. Even with a broken foot and fluorescent lighting.
When a doctor finally comes in, Declan stands.
“Hi,” she says, looking from me to him, then back to me. “I heard you hurt your foot.”
“Yes,” I say, and remove the ice pack. It’s started to turn an ugly black and purple and is somehow more swollen, making it twice the size of my left foot.
“Ouch.” She sanitizes her hands and then steps toward me. “What happened?”
“I dropped a recliner on it, while I was trying to move the chair into another room.”
She presses only lightly on the top of my foot, but I gasp at the pain that shoots up my leg. Declan stands and comes over to take my hand.
“Sorry,” I tell the doctor. I’m a big baby when it comes to pain, but damn, that hurt.
“You don’t need to apologize,” Declan says. Then to the doctor, “Wouldn’t an X-ray be better, so you don’t hurt her again?”
“I’m okay,” I say.
She smiles at him and steps back. “Can you put weight on it?”
“I haven’t really tried,” I say at the same time Declan says, “No, she can’t.”
The doctor looks between us again. The man played hockey with a broken wrist two games last season and he’s treating my broken foot like it’s going to be the death of me.
“I’m going to order an X-ray now. The swelling and tenderness indicate it’s likely broken, but let’s see exactly what’s going on and then we’ll figure out how to get you fixed up. Okay?”
“Thank you.” I give her an extra broad smile to make up for the grumpy man next to me.
“It shouldn’t be long,” she says, and returns my smile.
Declan frees his right hand from mine, gives me his left, and extends the right to her. He still looks like he wants to tear the hospital apart to get my care expedited, but he finds his manners somewhere under all that protectiveness. “Thank you.”
With a nod, she leaves us. A nurse comes next to give me some Tylenol for the pain and a fresh ice pack. Whether it’s because of Declan’s insistence or not, I can’t be sure, but it’s less than five minutes before I’m wheeled to another room for an X-ray.
By the time we find out that it is broken, in two spots, the pain medicine is working and I’m getting tired from the crash of adrenaline and the emotional rollercoaster I’ve been on for the past twenty-four hours. I just want to go home.
I try to listen to the instructions as they put me in a boot for discharge, but my eyes are heavy. They wheel me back out to the vehicle and Declan lifts me into his SUV.
“Can I sit in the front?” I ask, not lifting my head from his chest.
He shuts the back door and instead takes me to the passenger seat. “You need to keep it elevated as much as possible.”
“I will when we get home,” I promise.
While he drives, I lean over to rest my head on his shoulder. I must fall asleep because the next thing I know, he’s got me in his arms again.
He climbs the stairs with me in tow and then heads to his bedroom. Laying me down, he asks, “Do you need anything?”
