Page 43 of Mr. Fixer Upper
“I’m your only option right now. So let’s get this over with and get you to bed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Her resistance faded as quickly as it had risen. “The stuff’s out on the table,” she said, her teeth starting to chatter.
“Okay, come on. We’ll do this on the bed so you can lay down.” It was brief, but he saw the look of gratitude cross her face. Exhaustion was setting in, and he needed to get her comfortable. He helped her out of the bathroom, taking most of her weight and guiding her onto the bed.
He scooped up the gauze and tape along with a photocopied sheet of doctor’s instructions for wound care and carried it to the bed. He read as he dumped everything on the mattress next to her before getting to work. She had bandages everywhere, and it just wasn’t feasible to leave the t-shirt on, so Gannon stripped it off.
“Damn it, Gannon!” Paige reached for the bed sheet to cover herself.
“Honey, I’ve already seen it all, and I’m really looking forward to seeing it all again when you’re healed up. So let’s hurry the process along.” He tore a piece of tape into fours with his teeth and adhered them to the sheet.
She muttered something about being ridiculous under her breath while he worked as quickly as he could moving from bandage to bandage. She’d needed stitches in two places and had the equivalent of road rash in several spots. The slice across her calf was the worst of it, deep and angry looking. Nearly a dozen stitches held the wound shut.
“They said it would probably scar,” Paige said into her pillow.
“Scars just mean you’re tough,” Gannon told her, gently securing a fresh strip of gauze to the wound.
“Malia said you told her that.”
“That is one tough kid.” He sealed the tape around the gauze.
“The bed you’re making for her is amazing.”
Gannon raised his hand intending to smack Paige on the ass to have her roll over and then thought better of it. “Back’s all done. Roll for me.”
She started to roll and let out a muffled yelp before slowly complying.
“Almost done, honey,” he promised softly.
He worked quickly trading out old gauze for fresh on her arm, hip, and thigh, before helping her back into his t-shirt. She was still shivering, so he pulled the covers up to her neck.
He found the bottle of pain meds in the pharmacy bag. “How many of these are you supposed to take?”
She shook her head. “I don’t like that stuff. Makes my head fuzzy.”
“You’ve got to be in pain.”
She attempted a sad one-shoulder shrug. “It’s not so bad. I’m fine.”
Stubborn to the point of idiocy, Gannon thought. He could respect that. He found a bottle of ibuprofen in the bag and dumped three into his hand and prodded her arm on a square inch of unbruised skin. “Over the counter,” he promised.
She tossed them back and washed them down with an open bottle of water. Once she started drinking, she couldn’t seem to stop.
“Are you hungry?”
She shook her head and handed the empty bottle back to him. Paige was as pale as the pillows beneath her.
“When did you eat last?” he prompted.
“Ugh. I don’t know,” she said, closing her eyes. “Breakfast?”
“You don’t eat breakfast,” he reminded her.
“I forgot. Then it was dinner last night. I was going to have lunch after the kids…” She trailed off as if the effort to speak was too much for her.
He swore quietly. “You need a damn babysitter,” he muttered, reaching for the phone on the nightstand and fishing out the room service menu from the drawer. He dialed the front desk and ordered for both of them.
