by Jenny Wood
My phone ringing bright and early had me wanting to throw something at my phone that was charging across the room. I kept it over there, so I didn’t hit snooze on my alarm in the mornings but actually had to get up out of bed to shut it off. I wasn’t likely to go back to sleep after having to get up in the chilly, wintery morning.
I’d fallen asleep in my work clothes, shoes still on. I dropped off as soon as my head hit the pillow last night, it was all I could muster. I threw back the covers and kicked off my shoes as my phone stopped but started right up again. I shuffled my way across the floor on socked feet just as it stopped again. Five missed calls, all from Jeffery. I didn’t have the energy to mess with him right now and to be quite honest; I didn’t know if I even wanted to. Last night had been an eye-opener for me. I didn’t mean near as much to him as he meant to me and looking back at it, he didn’t mean a whole lot to me, either. The idea of him, or someone like him, was the appeal; wanting someone to like me was the appeal. Not being alone, was the appeal; feeling cared about was the appeal; but he didn’t really do that, did he? He took me nice places and bought me meals and fancy dessert, but he didn’t care, not really.
Being that we had a benefit last night, Skye always gave us the following day off, knowing we’d need the reprieve after a twelve-hour work day and being non-stop once the benefit actually started. I had zero plans today, but I needed to get some laundry done, and if I remembered right, I actually need laundry detergent before I could even do that. It looks like a shopping trip was first.
After making toast for breakfast and having a half pot of coffee, I hurried through a lukewarm shower and mentally made a list of the things I’d need to pick up. Weekly shopping was reserved for Wednesday’s since it was my one guaranteed day off, but I could pick up some things today while I was out. Finding a hoody and a pair of jeans, I didn’t mess with combing my hair to perfection and let it fall where it may. I doubted I was going to see anyone I knew and it wasn’t like I had anyone to impress; not anymore.
Finding myself in Madison, Georgia, was a blessing. Everyone was so friendly here; it was like they’d known you their whole lives. People acknowledged you when you walked by, they were quick with a “hello, ” and when someone asked you how you were, they were always interested in the answer. People didn’t talk just to talk; they were actually that friendly and courteous. It was like something out of a movie when I first got here. I’d moved into a literal one room apartment that came with a hot stove and a toilet, there wasn’t much else, but it was all I could afford on my stipend from school. Even then, I had a feeling it was more to do with my boss’s, in-laws that rented it out to me than it had to do with the small amount of money I was able to give them each month.
There was a slight dusting of snow on the ground, but it was surprisingly warm for a January morning. The Grangers’ Market was only about seven blocks from my place, and at this time of the morning, traffic was almost non-existent. The sky was gray and cloudy like it might rain or spit some more flurries before too long. I wanted to get in and out and back home before I got caught in it. I’d need to remember to bypass the deli so Mrs. Granger didn’t keep me chatting until noon.
I grabbed the laundry soap and some more shampoo that I remembered last minute, as well as deodorant, some canned beef stew, instant potatoes, some mac-n-cheese and a carton of chocolate milk. There were few things I liked more than chocolate milk, and if I had the choice, I’d drink it all-day, every day. Weird? Probably, but I didn’t get it like most kids did at a young age; so I indulged as an adult. It could be worse; I could be a junkie or an alcoholic or something…But no, my vice was chocolate milk.
“Hey, honey. Andy been working you hard? I’ve hardly seen you this week.” Jolene Glasgow, checkout lady extraordinaire, asked the minute I’d come into her line. She knew every single person by name that walked in those doors, and she could probably tell you more about them than they could about themselves. She was a sweetheart and as far as I knew, the only one who could get by with calling my boss, Andy instead of Anderson or Skye.
“Nah, nothing I can’t handle.” I winked and shot her a smile; she was always so friendly, it was impossible not to like her.
“Twenty fifty-nine. Glad to hear it.” She smiled back as I counted out the exact change and handed it over. I bagged my things in my reusable tote bags that I brought, so I wouldn’t have to use the plastic ones that tended to break before I got home, every, single, time.
“It was nice seeing you, Jolene,” I said on my way out, and she made me promise to come back and see her soon, even though she’d already started ringing up the next person. See…like out of a movie.
“Morning, Foster!” Mr. Moss called to me from his mailbox where he was leaving something there for the mailman- or mail lady since her name was Faye. I waved my, hello, having both my shopping bags in one hand.
My phone buzzing my pocket caught my attention, and I wondered if I should just answer it if it was Jeffery and hear what he had to say. I pulled it out and saw that it was indeed him and put it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Foss. Are you still in bed? It’s after nine.” He scoffed. Had he always been so condescending? How had I not noticed before now? Or, if I had, why did I ignore it?
“No, I’m just leaving the market,” I tell him.
“You didn’t call me back; I’ve been calling all morning.” He said, someone accusingly, but maybe more confused.
“Well, you’ve got me now, what’s up?”
“What’s up?” He asked, taken aback. I stayed quiet. “You know what? Forget it.” He snaps and hangs up. That went well. I go to put my phone back in my pocket when it rings again. I don’t have to look to know it’s him. Stupidly, I answer.
“Hello?”
“What is your problem?” He halfway barks at me. I didn’t know what to say. I was kind of bummed that things didn’t work out, I mean, not because I would miss him, per say; but I was shit at being alone.
“I honestly don’t know what to say, Jeffery,” I tell him truthfully; I couldn’t hold a grudge or treat him like crap. It just wasn’t me, but I didn’t want to do this back and forth.
“Well I was hoping we could talk, but I don’t know if I want to if you’re going to have this attitude.” He says, ridiculously. My hands are freezing, and I’ve still got about five blocks to walk to get to my place. It hasn’t started raining, but the temperature has dropped considerably since I’d made my way to the store and I didn’t want to be outside, arguing on the phone about who’s fault what was. I open my mouth to tell him that I’ll just talk to him later when somewhere behind me, someone yells!
“Look out!” I snap my head around, just in time to see a red, small, compact car trying to swerve in time to miss me. I notice the panic on the drivers face and wonder if it matches mine. She’s a young girl, maybe just licensed, I’m not sure, but the front end of her car clips me from the side. I don’t think it’s as dramatic as it sounds. I don’t go flying through the air, or fly up over her hood; but I do get bumped quite a ways, my arms flailing and dropping everything. I’m pretty sure I was the one screaming, even though it could’ve been the girl driving. Not my finest moment.
One minute I was standing on the curb and the next moment, I thudded on the ground. The wind got knocked from my lungs, and I could hear myself gasping for breath, as well as feeling it not working with each try. My ass was on fire; my leg was going to be bruised if it wasn’t broken and it quite honestly felt like I’d gotten hit by a car.
“Oh, my gosh! Are you okay?” The young girl is quickly at my side where I’m still trying to fight for just one deep breath. “He can’t breathe!” She screams over her shoulder and all the sudden there are several people surrounding me. I close my eyes and try to calm myself; panicking isn’t going to help. I can feel something wet down my leg, and I reach down to feel it, praying it isn’t blood because there’s a lot.
“Does he need CPR? Is he going to die? Did I kill so
meone?” The girl is bordering on hysterical, and although I really hate to be rude, she isn’t helping. I want to ask her to please, shut up. I don’t though because I can’t.
“Hey,” I feel a hand on my chest, steadying me. It doesn’t feel heavy, so I don’t panic more than I already am. “You’re okay. Let’s try to take a deep breath.” He says. His voice is deep, and although I can see his blonde hair is perfectly coifed, I can’t make out any facial features because the sun is directly behind him.
“I’m a doctor, and you’re going to be okay. I’m Nathan. Stop struggling and just focus on me, okay? On three, we’re going to take a breath and hold it for three seconds then we’re going to blow out. Okay?” He says, calmly. I find myself being able to do it because he asked me to and he said he was a doctor. He wouldn’t tell me I’m okay if I wasn’t, would he?
“Good, again.” He says, and we repeat the action until I can do it on my own without feeling like I’m about to die.
“Do you hurt anywhere? Back pain? Neck pain? No, no, don’t try to move, just lay there for a second until I can make sure nothing’s broken, okay?” He’s still calm and collected and even though I’m scared as hell that something’s wrong and I’m just not noticing it because I’m near death or something. I do what he says.
“Am I bleeding anywhere?” I ask, needing to know about the wet at my leg. He seems to look me over, and I can see his face when his head blocks the sun. He’s stunning, exactly what you’d expect to see on those doctor shows on primetime. Blonde hair, fixed to perfection. A square, clean-cut jaw-line with amazing blue eyes. The way his white, button-up shirt stretches over his hard, muscled body and the sky blue, tie he’s wearing just completes the look. He’s really something else. His teeth are movie star white and perfectly straight, and I can’t believe I’m checking him out while lying on the ground probably bleeding out from getting hit by a car. I can’t believe I just got hit by a car.
“No, no blood. Though you did ruin a perfectly good carton of chocolate milk.” He smirks at me, and I swoon. Wow. He’s just too pretty to look at.
“Nathan Nichols.” He smiles, charmingly.
“Foster Wells,” I reply, not near as charming.
“Well, Foster Wells; the medics are here, and they’re going to take you to get you checked out. I’ll follow you over since I was on my way there anyway and we’ll make sure you’re just bumped and bruised and nothing more sinister, okay?” He asks. I want to refuse because I know I’m not going to be able to afford this, but, I did just get hit by a car. Better safe and broke than dead and save a couple of bucks. I nod, reluctantly and watch him step back. My body protests being moved while they put me on the stretcher, complete with a neck brace and all, and I remember to ask about my phone and groceries. The gorgeous doctor tells me not to worry, and for the moment, I don’t.
Wade
“Twenty-five-year-old male struck by vehicle. Ambulance is on-scene. No casualties, minor injuries, driver unharmed.” Margie tells me the minute I walk in. Great way to start the day. “In front of the vendor mall.” She tells me as I walk right back out. It takes me all of three minutes to drive there; I don’t use the lights. I see a distraught teenager with what I assume to be her parents as well as a couple of good sized crowds on the sidewalk.
“Are you the driver?” I ask the girl, who looks guilty and shaken up. Easy guess.
“Yes! It was my fault. I was texting! I know you’re not supposed to, and it’s illegal and dangerous, but I was just telling my best friend that I was on my way. There are never people on the roads, and it isn’t even slick. I don’t know what happened. I took my eyes off the road for one second! Am I going to go to jail? I almost killed someone, but it was an accident. I’ll never do it again; you can have my phone, even. Take it!” She thrust the phone at me, sobbing her confession.
“Okay,” I try to calm the girl down, as do her parents who look equally frustrated and worried. “From what I gather, there were only minor injuries, so no one almost got killed. It could’ve been worse, but it wasn’t; let’s be thankful for that. You’re not being arrested, but we do need to talk about it, and you will be issued a situation for texting and driving resulting in injury. You will also have to go to court and depending on the man you struck; it might get ugly. He could sue for hospital bills or whatever else. I’m not saying he will, but it’s a possibility. Now, can I have your license, registration, and proof of insurance, please? I just need to run these things in.” I ask, and it takes a good half hour to get everything straightened out. Sixteen-year-old, Sarah Gilstrap’s father, Norman, drives her car away while her mother takes her home. She’s still shaken up, as she should be, but I’m thankful that it was the least terrible outcome of something like this. She’s young and hopefully learned her lesson the hard way. With my paperwork put away from her side of the story and several eyewitnesses, I still need to talk to the victim. Making my way to the hospital, I call Margie and give her the info in case I’m needed. It’s going to be a long day.
“Hey, Sheriff.” Bessie Ann Mason greets me as I walk through the emergency room doors. It’s not often I have to come in here, but I’ve hauled a couple of guys in for stitches after a bar brawl, and like I said…small town.
“Bessie Ann. I’m here to see the man who was brought in earlier. Car accident.” I tell her. She nods knowingly and motions for me to follow her, which I do.
“Nice kid. Good-looking too. He’s okay, but he’s pretty banged up. Could’ve been a lot worse, I hope you gave that Sarah Gilstrap a talking to about texting and driving.” She gave me a disapproving glare that could have rivaled even my own mother. I assured her that I had. She nodded and pointed to the door and sauntered off. I knocked and waited to be let in before I peeped my head in.
“Sheriff Wade, is now a good time?” I asked to the room. It was quiet, he didn’t seem to have any visitors, and there were no doctors or nurses that I could hear. That was good.
“Come on in.” He says softly, and I did. It wasn’t until I moved around the curtain that I could see it was the server from last night. The server named Foster with the incredible brown eyes that I’d not stopped thinking about, since last night.
“Hey,” I said, stupidly. How professional. “You okay?”
“This isn’t my best day.” He tried to tease, the tension around his eyes, clear as day. Every time he moved, his jaw clenched, and it took physical strength to take a calming breath.
“You in pain? Have they given you anything?” I ask, wondering why he was hurting so badly when he’d been here for over an hour.
“I’m waiting on it. The doctor got called into an emergency C-section a couple of floors up, and I actually think everyone else forgot about me.” He huffs, pained.
“Hang on.” I walk to his bedside and push the call button. “You should’ve said something.”
“They’ll get to me, I know they’re busy.” He groaned.
“I was hoping to get your account of what happened, but I think we’ll wait until we get you something for pain first,” I tell him. The nurse asks if he needs anything and I in no uncertain terms ask her why he’s not had pain medication yet. She comes in flustered and feeling terrible, because they had in fact, forgotten about him in here.
“It’s just so busy tonight; I’m so sorry. Inexcusable. I’ll get you something right away.” She says, and she does. Within a minute of what’s probably some very strong painkillers, I watch Foster’s body relax and melt into the bed.
“That’s amazing. I’d like to take some of this home with me.” He sighs, I can’t help but smile.
“Not that I’m a drug addict or that I’d buy it illegally or something.” He tries to look alert and serious, but his body isn’t having it. I knew what he meant. I chuckled and took out my cell, where I’d note his version of the incident.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask quietly, as his eyes were now closed, and his breathing was easier.
“I was leavin
g the market and my boyfriend called. Ex-boyfriend now, actually. We argued. I was going to hang up, and someone shouted at me. I remember seeing the girl; she was scared. Is she okay?” He slurs, and he’s talking a little slow, but I understand him just fine. He has a boyfriend or ex? Maybe the guy from last night.
“No texting and driving.” He murmurs, and it’s cute the way his face scrunches up. His eyes are still closed, and he doesn’t say anything else. If he’s asleep, I don’t want to disturb him, but I’m not sure I’m ready to leave yet, either.
“Knock-knock.” A voice says loudly before walking in. The doctor. A very good looking doctor actually. That smile. “Hi there, I’m Dr. Nichols. Sheriff Wade, I presume. Nurse Tilly said you were in here. How’s this guy?” He asks, reading something over in the chart, but going straight to his bed. “They forgot your pain meds until just now? Why didn’t you say anything?” He questions Foster, who’s now looking at the doctor with a smile.
“You are so pretty.” He reaches a hand up but touches nothing, and it falls back down to the bed with a thud. “So are you.” He says as his head lolled over and he looked at me. The doctor and I are both looking stunned, not at the loose lipped patient but at each other.
“Do you guys like boys?” He asks, and that gets our attention. He’s looking back and forth between us. “Which one of you is a top?” The doctor looks embarrassed as hell, but I can’t hold in my surprised laugh.
“I knew it was you.” He whispers, looking smug. The doctor clears his throat and goes over a list of injuries that include some serious road rash, a very bruised hip bone, and a sprained wrist. After informing him of a treatment plan that just includes plenty of laying around until everything heals, the doctor makes a quick escape, looking debauched and embarrassed.
“Very pretty, but two bottoms can’t work out, can they? I don’t think so.” He asks and then answers himself. You couldn’t pay me to wipe the smile off my face. If I was even the barest hint of jealous over the doctor, I wasn’t now.
