by Jenny Wood
“You said your bandages probably needed to be changed.” His eyes went wide as he tried to explain. “And you seem uncomfortable, I only meant, you know, you could let your leg and hip breathe. I could help. That’s all.” He stuttered through his explanation and for some reason; I found it ridiculously cute. He was hard, everywhere. His body was impressive. He was slim and lithe, but you could tell there was serious muscle under there; unlike my softness. I had zero muscle definition at all. Luckily, I was slim as well, but nowhere near toned.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. You’ve done so much already.” I tell him. “My wallet is in my bag, there. Could you hand it to me?” He does, though he looks a little skeptical. I dig through it and pull out my wallet and my phone, plugging the phone in beside my bed, groaning at every bend and shift of my body.
“Please, let me help you. You look miserable.” Hot-Sheriff says to me. With the phone hooked up and charging, I open my wallet to hand him a ten. Luckily, I still have the twenty-seven dollars that I had left from going to the market. I don’t usually keep a lot of cash on me, but some, just in case I need it. Not everyone takes debit cards, especially in a town like this.
“I’m okay. I wanted to give you this for your trouble. Taking me to Skye’s and helping me up here and all.” I try to give him the bill, but he scoffs it away.
“I don’t want that. I’m a cop. My job is to help people.” He deadpans, sitting on the end of my bed. “Put your legs out; we’ll get you out of these pants. I’ll check the bandages, see how bad they are. Cam put some in your bag, but you may need more. I can run out for those if you need them.” I hesitated only for a minute; the way he was looking at me left no room for argument and to tell you the truth, I liked the soft way he was talking to me. His words were a command, but his tone wasn’t. It was cajoling.
The look on his face when he pulled back the giant bandages that are taped together, to form one giant bandage across my hip and thigh, almost made me laugh. It would have been comical to see his eyes bug out like they did if it didn’t hurt so fucking bad. I grunted through the pain as the tape pulled a bit too hard across a sensitive part of my leg.
“Sorry. Let’s leave this off for a few minutes. They gave you this foamy spray here. It’s supposed to help clean it so you don’t have to do anything crazy, like use a wash rag or something that would be torture. Let’s let it breathe for a minute, and then I’ll spray it on, and we’ll cover it back up. K?” He almost whispered, looking up at me from under his impossibly long lashes. This pill must be better than I thought because I felt lightheaded from just having him look at me like that. Was I going crazy?
“Why’re you looking at me like that?” I blurted on a slur. Bad idea, this drug stuff. He cleared his throat and looked away. I’m making him uncomfortable. “Sorry. Drugs make me blabby.” He almost smiles and I watch his eyebrows shoot up in question. “Not that I do drugs all the time, just, you know. Right now. I’m on them right now.”
“I know what you mean.” He assured me, thankfully. I was confessing to a sheriff that I was on drugs.
“I know you’re on drugs; I gave them to you.” He snickered now.
“Did I say that out loud?” I asked, horrified.
“You did.” He smiled and winked. The smile, even though masked by a fairly long beard, was smug and flirtatious. It made him look bad. The good kind of bad though, the sexy kind. “I’d give my next paycheck to know what you’re thinking right now.” He smirks again, and I want to wish for another skittle to come through my house and interrupt this ridiculously embarrassing moment.
“I’m embarrassing myself,” I say truthfully. He’s going to think I’m a lunatic.
“I don’t think you’re a lunatic. I think you’re cute. Don’t be embarrassed.” I open my eyes to see him smiling sincerely at me. He looks a little bit nervous but a whole lot amused. I roll my eyes at myself and lay back. I’m still embarrassed, but I can blame it on the drugs, right?
“So, I’m a cop, right?” He starts off hesitantly. I did know that. “Cam says you’re having trouble with your boyfriend. Is he going to be a problem?” I open my eyes and look at him, warily, wondering why he’s asking.
“I think he has a girlfriend,” I tell him. I wasn’t sure because he never clarified, but I’m pretty sure the woman from the other night was more than a work thing.
“Your boyfriend has a girlfriend? That’s fucked.” He says simply. I can’t help but laugh because yeah…yeah it is.
“We haven’t been together long. I thought we were exclusive, but I’m wondering about that now. I saw him at the benefit, the one I saw you at. He didn’t even say hi to me or introduce me to anyone. I mean, I know I was working, but he didn’t acknowledge me at all. Don’t you think that’s weird?” I ask him. I don’t need his answer though; I know it’s weird.
“Yeah, I’d say that’s pretty weird.” He agrees. See, I knew it was.
“I’m not going to lie and say things were good with him, because they were comfortable, at best. Even that was on and off. The comforts of it all. Comfortness, is that a word, you think?” I ask him. Is it? It doesn’t sound right, but it’s what I mean. He was comforting at times, and I wanted the comfort.
“Anyway, I think I stayed out of comfortness.” I finish. He’s looking amused again, and the smirk is back. The sexy smirk. I wonder what that beard feels like. I wonder if he has dimples under it. I wonder about his lips. They look dark pink, from what I can see of them. Fuck, I’m staring at his lips. He’s all out smiling now. His teeth are so white and straight. I’m still staring at his mouth.
“So, you think he’ll give you trouble?” He asks, and I tear my eyes away from his lips and look at him in his shiny, gray eyes.
“I doubt it. I think I bruised his ego in front of Cameron, that’s all. I’ll probably never hear from him again.” I tell him honestly.
“You don’t sound too broken up about that.” He suggests.
“I guess I’m not. I’m wondering if I even liked him or I just liked not being alone.” I shook my head at myself, and it feels heavy. I know that makes me sound desperate. It makes me feel desperate sometimes too. I don’t just mean that any ol’ person will do. I have standards. But guys don’t start out being dicks, so you’ll know they’re dicks. Some are sneaky dicks!
“That’s true enough.” The asshole chuckled.
“I do not mean to keep saying this shit out loud! Why can’t I keep something in my head, right now?” I whined and threw my head back onto my pillow. He was actually laughing, and I couldn’t find one thing funny with my diarrhea mouth.
“Okay, you probably need to rest. Let’s get this spray on you and bandage you back up; then I’ll get out of your hair.” Sheriff Wade says to me. I nodded and let him get to work on it, while I silently tried to not think about how badly I didn’t want him to leave. I was afraid if I thought it too much, I’d go blurting it out and embarrass myself again.
His presence was nice. He was nice. He was so gentle with the cleaning of my leg and bandaging it up. I’d have guessed he’d done it before; he got it done with no pain and minimal mess. I’d have surely wasted half the spray and probably drenched my bed, but he made it look effortless, and I didn’t flinch once. The furrow between his eyes when he was concentrating was cute too. I wanted to reach up and smooth it away with my finger. I absolutely did not, do that, but I wanted to. I wondered why Jeffery didn’t act like this when he’d come to the hospital, instead of having the attitude that he did. I wondered if I’d have overlooked the girl from the party if he had because this kind of thing is what I longed for. The caring. Someone to care about me; if I lived or died. Had being hit by a car, been worse than it was. The only person who’d really care, I’d imagine would be Anderson. He’d be out a server on short notice. The morgue wouldn’t even have anyone to call. How sad was that?
“You alright?” Wade asked me, pulling me from my morose, musings. I was suddenly tired, so very tired. I ju
st wanted to close my eyes and sleep until everything stopped hurting. I nodded, not trusting my voice. My eyes got heavier, and I let them close. I could feel the taller man watching me, and I liked that he was here. I wished we were friends enough to ask him to stay, just until I fell asleep. I hated falling asleep alone. I’d been robbed and beat up and scared half to death, waking up in a strange place by myself. I felt safe with someone watching me; as creepy as that sounds. It took me a second to realize my arm was stretched out and my hand wasn’t empty. I didn’t let my eyes open, and I let myself fall asleep with his hand in mind. I was terrified if I so much as moved, he’d take it away and at the moment, I felt like I’d die if he did.
I woke up to Anderson banging on my door around dinner time and true to his word, he brought me tubs of ready-made food. Chicken soup, sandwiches for snacks, already sliced fruit, cheese and crackers, peanut butter and jelly; lots of easy things to munch on so I wouldn’t go hungry. I tried to tell him that I’d be back at work soon, but he wasn’t having it. I finally broke down and told him that I couldn’t afford to stay out of work until I completely healed. I needed the money. I hated the pitying look when he changed the subject and let the topic drop. I thanked him profusely for all the food, and he didn’t stay long. I didn’t want to sound ungrateful because I very much was, but I just wanted to take a pill and go back to sleep. That’s what I did.
Also true to his word; Cameron called me. The man must’ve taken my number and added his into my phone because his name and a selfie popped up on my screen when he called. I could see it through my broken screen, and it let me answer.
“I was just seeing how you’re feeling?” He asked.
“Shitty. Thank you for asking.” I grouched, and he laughed. I didn’t know him at all, but the times I’d seen him, the one day he was my nurse; nothing made him stop smiling. He seemed just overall, a happy person. That was annoying. Nobody was that happy all the time.
“Mmhmm, and was the nice sheriff, helpful?” He said much too innocently. I didn’t buy it for a second. Judging by the way they talked about each other, I sensed that they’d known one another.
“He was. I appreciate you calling him for a ride.” I tell him honestly. Again, I was grateful; he really was a big help.
“He’s nice that way. Single too.” Cameron said, suggestively.
“Whose single?” I heard a very deep, growly voice over the line.
“Nobody.” Cameron brushed the person off.
“Who’s single and why do you care, baby?” I heard closer. He sounded like a gorilla or something. I couldn’t imagine what he looked like, but if I had to guess, it would be scary.
“Wade,” Cameron said. “Now, go away. I’m on the phone. Rude.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t play matchmaker. I like Wade. Don’t make it weird.” The voice changed from scary to downright whiny. I chuckled at Cameron and again, wondered what this man looked like.
“Anyway, like I was saying… once you get to feeling better, we’ll invite you over for a barbeque; it’s kind of our thing. Wade comes too.” I could hear the smile in his voice and the groan from whoever was in the peanut gallery. “Go away!” Cameron laughed, and I heard the phone jiggle.
“Sounds good.” I comply just to get off the phone. I didn’t put any stalk into any of it; as I said, I didn’t know the guy from Adam, and I highly doubted Wade would be at a barbeque that I was invited to. If he were, he’d probably bring a date. Man or woman, I wasn’t sure, not that it’d matter. I just knew with absolute certainty that someone like Sheriff Raylan Wade would not want one thing to do with me. A former homeless kid with multiple citations for sleeping where I wasn’t supposed to and a couple of times when I was fifteen, begging for food outside of a restaurant. That shit was on my record. I was a juvenile, but still. Luckily, I’d go in and pay the fines, usually 50 bucks and they’d not make me see a judge. I was always scared stiff when I went to the courthouse to pay tickets, afraid they’d cotton on to the fact that I was just a kid and somewhere, a social worker or the state was looking for me. Luckily it never happened, but, I was a kid with a shitty history, and he was a fucking cop. No way, no how.
Thankfully, my noncommittal answer was enough to placate Cameron, and he told me he’d call me tomorrow. I had a feeling he really would.
Just because I blew off the idea of Wade, I still wanted to ask question after question about him. I’d not stopped thinking about him since I woke up disappointed that he was gone. I knew he would be, I wasn’t delusional, but I was still bummed. I didn’t have any reason to see him again, and I found myself really wanting to.
I pretty much slept off and on for the next two days. I was finally able to take a shower, holding half of my body out of the range of the shower head. It hurt too bad to have water directly on the scraped skin that was my thigh and hip. By the fourth day, I was getting restless. I needed to go back to work and staring at the same four walls of my place was driving me crazy. Even though Skye and Cameron called to check in at least once a day, I hated not having anyone to talk to. I found myself randomly singing a song or talking to myself just to fill the void of the silence. I should get a TV.
Anderson let me come back to work on Monday, and even though I was slow going, he didn’t have me out on any jobs catering. I just helped prep and pack at his kitchen. His office building had a gorgeous kitchen that he was elbow deep in something delicious, all the time. He was so happy in his little domain, and I wanted the same thing, so badly. This was why I am working so hard; this was why I needed to get back to work so badly because I needed this. I had a dream that I wanted to start, and I wanted to start it yesterday. I needed to get my mind off of everything but that. Funnily enough, I’d not heard from Jeffery since he’d left the hospital, but I had gotten a couple of hand delivered notes, saying to call him, every day. Each one was progressively more hateful, but it just cemented my lack of wanting to give in and call him. I figured he didn’t have anything to say that I wanted to hear and honestly, I just didn’t have anything to say at all.
Now, if I could feel the same way about the bearded sheriff….
Wade
Paperwork was the bane of my existence. Every call I go on, I have to recount the entire thing in my own words from start to finish; from the time I got the call, to the time I got back to the station. I needed as much detail as I could, for everything. Today, it was one stupid call after another; a kid didn’t show up at school today, found him at his girlfriend’s house, who also didn’t go to school today. Instead of the parents checking the girl's house and finding him in ten minutes. I searched town for him for an hour before the parents suggested a girlfriend and I drove over and gave them both a talking to about ditching. The parents were furious and the kid was embarrassed. I had asked three times if he had a girlfriend. Complete waste of time. I had a call about a property line problem, an errant teenager, one alarm going off at a shoe store, a fight between teenagers at the high school and lastly, a person driving recklessly on the main street through town. Recklessly, was not stopping at the stop sign in front of JoJo’s, Chinese place. I issued a warning, and now here I am; staring at the clock in hopes that it’ll strike eight and I can go home.
“Wade, hon, you’ve got a visitor up here for ya.” Margie hollered from the desk out front. We had a hallway with 18 cells, but we were never full; the rooms were holding rooms until folks went to court and he transferred them to the jailhouse in the next town over, or prison a few towns over in the opposite way. Still, we hung out back here to keep an eye on people and Michael, who was on shift with me tonight, was taking his lunch. We only had three people in lockup, all three waiting for court hearings, so they were alright sitting for a while. I walked up to Margie’s desk to see who was here, though I imagined it could be any of the guys or my cousin Shelby. Color me surprised as hell to see Foster.
“Hey.” I opened the door and let him in. He looked nervous but was walking better, from what I could tell.
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“Hey, I uh, I kind of passed out on ya the other day and I wanted to thank you for helping me out. It isn’t much, but people are so nice around here, and when I get in a tight spot, and someone helps me out, I like to do something nice for them, as a, thank you of sorts, I guess.” He was shifting from foot to foot and not looking at me, and for some reason, I found that incredibly cute. “Anyway, as I said, it’s not much, but… I bake. I bake, and everyone like cupcakes, right? So, I brought you these to say thanks.” He shrugged and handed me the small white box. I indeed did love cupcakes. Who didn’t?
“You didn’t need to do that; I’m glad I could help,” I tell him.
“Who’s your fella here, Wade?” Margie spoke up from behind us. I didn’t bother correcting her; he was here for me after all.
“This is Foster; he was the guy Sarah Gilstrap hit with her car while texting.” I introduce her. “This here is Margie, and she’s about to fuss,” I whisper conspiratorially at Foster before I smile.
“Oh, my gracious, honey. I’m sure glad you’re alright. It’s a real shame nobody taught that girl to stay off the phone while she’s driving. I bet you scared the time out of her, didn’t you? Are you okay? Do you wanna sit down? I can make y’all some coffee or we’ve got a soda machine back here, would you care for a soft drink?” Margie unleashes her holy hospitality on the unsuspecting Foster, and he doesn’t look like he knows how to take it.
“I’m okay, ma’am, but thank you.” He answers politely, and I honestly see Margie melt in front of us.
“Child, my name is Margie or just Marge. While I appreciate a young man with manners, we’re all family here, so ma’am just won’t do. Why don’t you come on back and take a load off?” She ushers us out of the reception area and to the small but efficient break room.
“Foster here brought some cupcakes,” I tell Margie, as she’s fixing up three cups of coffee. “It’s okay if I share, right? Are there enough?” I ask Foster quietly; I should’ve asked first, I’ll feel rude eating in front of Margie or Michael when he comes back in.
