by Jenny Wood
“Okay, Chatty-Cathy. I’m going to let you rest. I’m going to leave you my card here, and I need you to call me when you’re feeling better so I can finish up this investigation okay? It’s just procedure, but I need your account too for my paperwork. So, call when you’re up to it, alright?” I tell him, knowing I’ve got pretty much all I need, but not wanting our time to end here. Stupid on my part more than likely, but there’s just something about him that intrigues me. Yesterday and today. He nods and closes his eyes.
“Can you just stand there for a minute?” He whispers, turning his body slowly to one side, facing me. “Just until I fall asleep, okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but his hand slid closer to the edge of the bed towards me. He looked younger than his twenty-five years, and he looked small and fragile in the big hospital bed. I wondered why that bothered me. I waited until I was sure he was asleep and snoring soundly before I left.
Foster
Everything hurt. My skin, my bones, my head… even taking a piss hurt. The doctor said I was okay though and soreness was expected. I had just gotten mowed over by a teenager in a skittle, after all. Compact car or not, it hurt the same as it would’ve had it been a MACK truck.
“Knock-knock” Someone said happily before coming in. That was the custom at this hospital I guess because literally everyone did it. “I’m Cam; I’m your nurse today. It looks like you’re busting out this afternoon! Great!” He smiled widely.
“Great,” I said groggily, having been pretty doped up the last twenty-four hours I’d been here. It was finally wearing off, and I couldn’t tell if I was grateful for that or if I’d need to beg for something to put me out of my misery before they sent me home.
“I’ve got some paperwork for you to fill out and some things to go over with you, but as soon as the doctor comes back in and makes sure you're up for it, we’ll get you out of here. Do you have a ride home or anyone you’d like to call?” He asks, just as the door flies open and Jeffery storms in.
“You got hit by a car and didn't answer your phone all night? SERIOUSLY?” He yells, rushing to my side of the bed and grabs my hand. Unfortunately, it’s my sprained hand, and the action causes a yelp of pain from me. I’m surprised he noticed, he usually never does.
“Fossy, why didn’t you call me?” He asks, looking hurt by that fact. I all of the sudden cannot stand that he calls me “Fossy.” I jerk my hand back and put it in my lap.
“Listen, I dunno what that was the other night at the benefit, and I’m sorry to have caught you off guard there, but, the way things are and have been with us; just isn’t working for me. I feel like we’re probably too different and –“
“Foss, babe. It’s been a long day. Can we talk about this later?” He asks with a warning, clear in his tone. The nurse, Cam had been trying to make himself look busy but was clearly listening to our exchange.
“Are we together?” I asked, point blank.
“You know we are, babe.” He answers sweetly with a smile.
“I did. I thought so.” I tell him softly. “But, at the benefit, I saw you kiss that woman you were with four different times, and she was hanging on you all night. I served you drinks all four of those times, and you acted as you’d never seen me before. Five months, Jeffery, five months and I know nothing about you or your friends or your family or your job. Five months and you ignore me and kiss a woman in front of me and then act like I’m the one that needs to explain something. Can you honestly not see how fucked that is?”
“Alright, things are obviously still fresh for you, so we’ll talk about things later. When you get home.” He seems to ignore everything I’ve just said. He leans down to kiss me, but I turn and give him my cheek. How did he not hear me? “I’ll call you later.” He nods and walks out.
“You okay?” I open my eyes to see Nurse Cam beside my bed. I nod, feeling tired and just wrung out. “He always that weird?” He asks. I can’t help but smile; it was exactly what I was thinking.
“Not usually, no.”
“I didn’t like the sound of that. People can be psycho.” He says as if he has experience with that.
“He’s harmless. Probably just didn’t like being embarrassed. He’s not dangerous.” I assure him.
“You sure about that?” He asks. I nod, and he seems to let it go. “You got a ride home?”
“Was going to call the bus,” I tell him. My house is way too far to walk, and we don’t have taxies or car services in our tiny little town.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll call a friend of mine, he’ll come get ya and make sure you make it in safely. I don’t like the sound of that guy.” He nodded toward the door where Jeffery just left. I wanted to assure him that I would be okay, but honestly, an actual ride instead of the bus sounded heavenly. I’d offer gas money and thank them profusely. People were just nice in this town; they did things that like for strangers. I’d accept it and be grateful.
Wade
Finishing my last mile on the treadmill, my shrill phone ringing in my ear takes the place of the music that had been playing through my phone. I wasn’t on shift today, but it wasn’t unusual that I’d get called in from time to time, I clicked the ear piece and answered.
“Sheriff Wade.”
“Hey, Sheriff.” It was Cam, and he sounded amused by my greeting. These guys obviously knew I was the sheriff, but the title didn’t mean fuck-all to them. I was just Wade.
“What’s up, Cam?” I asked, breathlessly, continuing my run.
“You working today?” He asked. I told him I wasn’t and he sounded relieved. “Okay, weird request, but ya know the guy you were mackin’ on at the gala the other night? Well, he’s in here and about to be discharged. His guy friend, or ex or whatever, came earlier and it didn’t go well. He seems the “I do what I want when I want” type, without listening to input from anyone else. And Foster, that’s the dude's name in case you wondered; well, he didn’t seem to want the guy around. The guy didn’t catch the hint and said he’d talk to him later, but not in the “talk to ya later” like I’ll tell you, I’ll talk to ya later, but like… the threatening kind, ya know? Anyway, I was wondering if you’d wanna come give the guy a ride home, so he doesn’t have to take his injured self on the bus.” He finished, after that ridiculous run-on sentence without so much as a breath.
“Yeah, I can do that,” I answer without hesitation. I tried to sound nonchalant about it, but if I was being honest with myself, even if I couldn’t be with Cam. I really wanted to see the man again.
“You can?” He sounded surprised. I’m not sure why, because it’s the whole reason he’d called me.
“Yeah, you said something didn’t feel right about the ex, so… I’ll come make sure he gets home alright.” I said stupidly.
“Oh, okay. Well, he’s in room 112 and should be getting out in the next half hour. We’re just waiting on Doc. Nichols to sign his papers and he’s making rounds now.” He informs me. I grunt in response and tell him I’ll see him soon. I have just enough time to finish up my workout and shower and take off. Hopefully, I’ll get there before the doctor.
“Sheriff.” Foster sounded surprised when I walked into his room with Cameron.
“Hey, Cam said you needed a ride home.” I tried to smile but I was out of practice with casual smiles, so I wasn’t sure what look I actually had on my face. Cam looked concerned.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Foster says, shyly, glancing at Cam and then back to me.
“He’s happy to do it.” Cam grinned and then winked at me. The asshole.
“I’m happy to do it,” I repeated, truthfully.
“I don’t wanna be any trouble; I can call someone.” He tries again, looking almost embarrassed. I don’t like that.
“Who’s ready to go home!” The attractive doctor from yesterday comes in with a folder full of papers. “We went over everything earlier, but just so you know, if you have any head, neck, chest or abdominal pain in the next 24 hours, come back
and see us. Dizziness, fatigue, stiffness, and soreness is common; but if it gets to be too much, come back and see us. If you’re worried about anything or something doesn’t feel right, don’t hesitate to call or-“
“Come back and see us” Doc, Cam and Foster said at the same time, causing them all to cackle like crazy. The doc winked at Foster, and that little squiggle of jealousy decided to make itself known again. I could feel myself frowning as Cameron turned around and rolled his eyes at me. What did that mean?
“I’m putting your medicine in this side pocket here; your groceries held up, but I’m afraid your chocolate milk didn’t survive the collision. I’m putting one in here from the cafeteria but fridge it as soon as you get home. Your phone is in the front flap, but it’s dead, remember.” Cameron says as Foster signs his discharge papers and jokes with the doctor. I hate that too.
“Alright, man, you’re free.” The doctor says, putting his hand out to help Foster get from the bed to the wheel chair. He’s moving slowly like he has to be hurting. I tell them I’ll meet them downstairs while I pull my truck around. Nobody says anything as I go. When I pull back up, Cameron and Foster are waiting on me at the emergency exit, and I jump out and run around to help him in.
“I got it,” I tell Cameron, and he steps back with a smile and waves.
“I’m calling you tonight, Foster, so charge your phone!” He says over my shoulder, and Foster breathes his okay through clenched teeth.
“You okay?” I ask softly, close to his ear, ignoring the annoying nurse watching, literally over my shoulder. His hand spasms in mine as he sits.
“Just sore.” He groans, sliding his legs in with little help. I take the belt and buckle him in. He rests his head on the headrest and keeps his eyes closed until I shut the door and enclose him in. I run to my side and jump in, eager to get him home and comfortable.
“Thanks, Sheriff.” Cameron giggles like a lunatic before I shut my door.
“I’m trying to figure out if I like him or not.” Foster murmurs beside me. His shoulders are tight with tension, and his eyes are still closed. I hate that he’s uncomfortable and in pain.
“He’s alright, just a meddler. You’ve got a friend for life, now. Believe me; there is no getting rid of them; I’ve tried.” I tell him very seriously. He groans again, but this time it’s cute.
“I really appreciate you giving me a ride home; I’m over on 5th and Crest. You won’t get in trouble will you?” He asks, rolling his head to the side and looking at me.
“Get in trouble for what?”
“I dunno, I’m a little out of it. I just don’t want anyone going to any trouble, is all.” He shrugs then winces.
“Just relax, k? I’ll have you home in a minute. Do you need to stop and get anything before we get there?” I ask. His medicine is taken care of, but I’m sure he won’t be getting out for a couple of days while he heals.
“Do you know the number to “Skye’s the Limit?” He asks.
“I don’t. You don’t have it?”
“No.” He sighs. “People don’t memorize phone numbers anymore, isn’t that crazy? I added it to my phone contacts and never even thought about it. Now, my screen is cracked, and I can only answer or reject calls because those are at the bottom. It won’t let me access my call log or any numbers.”
“I can run by and tell him, or we can swing by now. Were you expected today?” I ask, already heading that way.
“Yeah, at noon.” He groans, trying to sit up some. We’re at Anderson’s in less than two minutes; everything in this town is within a stone’s throw away.
“I’ll run in and get him; you stay put,” I tell him, not giving him a chance to contradict me, before jumping out and going in the front door for customers.
“Anderson Skye?” I ask the blonde-haired man I remembered from the other night.
“Yes? Can I help you?” He asks skeptically.
“I have Foster Wells outside; he was in an accident yesterday where he was struck by a car. He’s just gotten out of the hospital but unfortunately hasn’t been able to call. He said he was supposed to be here today, but-“
“Is he okay? Where is he? Was he injured?” The blonde twink-like man throws his apron aside and runs around the counter.
“He’s okay; he’s just outside in my truck,” I tell him, but he’s already out the door.
“Foster! Oh my goodness! Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt? Who did this?” He asks, running his hands over Foster’s arms and chest. Foster’s eyes are squinted shut, tightly, and his fists are balled up like the act alone is causing him pain.
“Easy, easy. He’s sore, and he’s got some bumps and bruises.” I tell the man who’s fussing over him like a mother hen. Why that to bothers me, I don’t know, but I’m getting about sick of all these people in his space.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m okay, just banged up.” Foster tries to assure him, but even a fool can see he’s in pain.
“Nothing’s broken or bleeding though, is it?” Anderson asks, looking back and forth between the two of us.
“No, just bruised.” Foster answers.
“You need some time, take the week off, okay? Lay around, get better. Call me in a few days and let me know how you are and we’ll go from there, okay? You just work on getting back to normal, alright?” Anderson tells him. At least there’s that; I would hate for him to lose his job over something that wasn’t his fault.
“No, no, I can come back. Maybe a day, two tops.” Foster argues. There’s no way he’ll be back that soon. He wasn’t lying; he’s banged up pretty good.
“Shut up. Go home and rest and then call me in a day or two, we’ll reassess.” Anderson shushes him without argument. “You need anything? I can bring you by some soup or sandwiches after work today. Anything you need, you let me know, okay?”
“I will, thank you,” Foster replies, and I take that as my cue to get us out of here.
“You feeling okay?” I ask when we pull away from Andersons. He’s noticeably paler, and he looks sweaty and clammy.
“I should’ve taken something earlier; I have stairs and my hip… my hip is on fire right now. I probably need to change the bandages.” He grunts through his pain. Why didn’t they give him something before he left?...We pull up to his apartment in minutes, and I jump out and run to his side to help him. His door is open, and his legs are hanging out, but he’s dry heaving between his legs.
“Hey, hold on. I’ll help you.” I tell him softly, putting my hand on the back of his neck to steady him. He’s sweaty and shaking.
“I’m so sorry.” He heaves. Ridiculous, there’s nothing to be sorry for.
“Can you stand up and walk or do you need help?” I ask him, he tries to stand up, he gives it his best shot, but the death grip he has on my arm tells me that he needs help. I scoop him up with little resistance.
“What are you doing? Put me down!” He tries, but it comes out more of a whimper. I wish the girl who ran into him could see the damage she done right now; maybe it would prove more of a lesson.
“Where are your keys?” I ask him, cradling him to my chest easily, despite his squirming.
“My bag.” He tells me, thankfully before I shut the door of the truck so I have time to grab it. Getting the keys first, I plop the bag in his lap and carrying him up the stairs to door 3, which is what his key says on it; so, lucky guess.
His apartment, or...room, I guess, is very small. Everything is in one room, including the toilet and shower. There’s just a little nook where they sit that gives some semblance of semi-privacy. I guess when you’re one person living in a one room place, there isn’t much need for privacy. I kick the door shut behind us and sit him down on his bed. It’s a good size bed for such a small place. It’s small but homey and it smells good; like him. Cologne or body wash, maybe?
“I’m going to go down and get your bag with your meds and stuff, k? I’ll be right back.” I tell him. He stretches out slowly and
lays down, nodding his acknowledgment. It only takes me a second, and I reach in the mailbox beside the door and grab his mail on my way back in. I didn’t pay attention to the stack of mail, but one thing grabs my attention because it’s not in an envelope nor does it look like regular mail. It’s just a single piece of paper.
Call me. 512-555-3493
I’m assuming it’s the douchebag ex and it pisses me off. I need to get my shit together or knock this shit off. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out why I’m jealous or why he’s suddenly every thought I have. He’s adorable in the best way but also shy and soft spoken, and I’ve seen twice now when he’s put on a brave face when I know for a fact that had to have been the opposite of what he was feeling. The other night at the benefit and today while talking to the doctor, Cam and then Anderson. He’s strong…. And those eyes of his… They’re something else.
“This was in your mailbox and here’s your medicine with the chocolate milk that was in your bag.” I smiled when he blushed, looking at the chocolate milk. It was just milk; I don’t know why he’d be embarrassed by liking milk. I liked chocolate milk, myself.
“Thank you.” He throws the pill that I dropped in his hand, into his mouth and chases it with a gulp of chocolate milk.
“No problem. You comfortable?” I ask as he tries to relax.
“I will be, once this pill kicks in.” He tries to smile as he opens his eyes and looks up at me. “Thank you for bringing me home. It was really nice of you to do.”
“Not a problem. Do you want to take your pants off?” Yep, that’s what I asked. If I could openly face palm, I would.
Foster
“Not a problem. Do you want to take your pants off?” The gorgeous, serious looking sheriff asks me. I stare at him for a minute, because I’m sure he didn’t mean it as it sounded. I’d planned to offer him some gas money for bringing me home, but was he expecting a different payment? A cop?
