by Ivy Jordan
“You told him about my job, and then ordered him to call me,” I snapped.
There was silence on the other end of the phone. That silence told me I was right. “So, how did you make him call? Pity, or threats?” I asked.
“He really likes you,” she insisted.
“Oh, yeah. He liked me so much he didn’t call me until you threatened him, right?” I laughed.
“That’s not true,” she said, but I knew it was.
“I really thought we connected, Tracy. You made me look like a fool,” I said, tears beginning to well up in my eyes.
I reached down to pull the plug from the speaker and hang up the phone. My eyes were filling up quick, and I needed my other hand to wipe my face. As I let go of the wheel, I heard a loud horn. “Charlotte!” Tracy’s voice called out through the phone as I swerved to miss the semi headed my way. As I pulled my car back into its own lane, I lost control, and was unable to regain it quickly enough.
I let out a scream as I frantically turned the wheel and slammed on the brakes at the same time. I panicked, and the end result was me heading for a tree.
My eyes opened to bright white lights shining above me. I could hear people stirring around me, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. “Charlotte. Can you hear me?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
I looked up; opening my eyes hurt. A woman with a face mask on, with dark hair pulled into a pony tail, was leaning over me. I could barely see her thin mask move as she spoke. “Yes,” I said with a sore throat.
“It may hurt to talk. You had a breathing tube in when you arrived,” the woman in the mask said in a soft, kind voice.
“Arrived?” I asked, confused.
The last thing I remembered was fighting with Tracy. Then—oh God, the semi, the tree…. “Am I dead?”
The woman over me laughed, and her eyes brightened. “No. You’re in the hospital, though.”
Everything hurt. My toes, my back, even my teeth.
“You were in an accident. Do you remember?” she asked.
I nodded instead of talking.
“You have a broken arm, a couple fractured ribs, but you’re gonna be fine,” she said sweetly. “Is there anyone we can call?” she asked.
I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. My parents were too old, this would scare them to death, and I didn’t have anyone else. I thought about Owen for a split second, but quickly pushed him out of my mind. “No,” I said, swallowing my pain and pushing back my tears.
“Your arm is broken pretty badly. We have a surgeon coming in to operate, but we’ll need to keep you here overnight,” she said.
It didn’t matter.
“Mr. Thompson,” I mumbled as she pushed another dose of pain killers through my IV.
“Mr. Thompson?” she asked.
I was fading quickly. I remember nodding, at least I think I did. Then, I was out.
“Good morning, Charlotte,” said a sweet older woman who was standing over my bed. She wore blue scrubs, similar to the ones the other nurse had been wearing the first time I had come to. I was in a room, not the ER, and the sun was shining through my window. “How long have I been out?” I asked, my throat still sore, but better.
“At least twelve hours,” she said.
I felt relief swarm over me. I was afraid it’d been days. I was so dazed, so confused, I was still piecing everything together. “There is a visitor outside waiting to see you,” the nurse said.
My heart jumped at the thought of it possibly being Owen, but I knew I hadn’t told anyone to call him. There would be no reason he’d come looking for me, so I calmed down. “Sure,” I said softly.
I rolled over to my side so I could scoot myself up on the bed with my good arm. It ached, causing me to groan. The nurse quickly moved toward me, returning me to my back and telling me to stay put. “The surgeon will be here shortly.”
She disappeared from my room, and within a few minutes, Tracy appeared. “Charlotte, I was so worried about you,” she said, rushing to my side.
I groaned with pain as she plopped on my bed. She quickly jumped up. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything,” she said.
“It’s okay,” I said with a smile.
“I promise you that I pushed him, but only because I knew he liked you, really liked you,” she said, returning to the topic that almost got me killed.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said.
“It does. It does matter. He thought you just wanted a one-night stand. A night to forget about Bobby. That’s why he didn’t chase after you,” she pleaded.
“He’s been hurt before. He knows what it feels like to be cheated on, lied to, betrayed,” she added.
He’d never mentioned any other woman, so I assumed there had never been one, at least not one that had meant anything to him. I was certain there were plenty of one-night stands, though. Like me.
“He’d kill me if he knew I told you this,” she said softly.
I was suddenly interested in what she had to say. My heart ached for Owen, and I needed to know there was a reason he let me down, any reason.
“He was engaged to his high school sweetheart. She was royal bitch, beauty queen snob. He worshipped her and worked his ass off to give her everything she wanted. When he bought that farm as a wedding gift, she threw a fit, telling him she’d rather die than live on a farm. He was putting it up for sale, his dream. He was giving it up for her, but thankfully, he caught her in the barn fucking one of the farm hands before the sale was finalized,” Tracy whispered so the nurses couldn’t hear.
“Is that true?” I asked.
She nodded. “Please, don’t tell him I told you.”
I shook my head. I had no reason to throw her under the bus with Owen. Besides, I certainly didn’t want to bring up anything that would hurt him.
“I had to push him, Char. He didn’t know how you felt, but I knew if you stayed that night, you must have really liked him,” she added.
I smiled, opened my arms, and screamed as Tracy leaned in to give me a hug. “I’m sorry,” she stammered, pulling away quickly.
I laughed, but that hurt too. “Mr. Thompson,” I said abruptly, remembering I needed to let him know what happened.
“I already handled it,” Tracy said.
“How?” I asked, wondering who else could’ve helped with the pregnant mare on such short notice.
“I sent Owen,” she said.
“How’s the mare and foal?” I asked.
She smiled. “They are doing great. Owen wanted me to tell you that Carlos is eating now, and to thank you for what you did,” she said.
“Is he here?” I asked.
Her face changed to a sad expression as she shook her head. “I’m sorry. He isn’t.”
“Good morning, Charlotte. You ready to get this arm patched up?” The question has come from a man with a white coat as he entered my room.
Dr. Jack, his tag read. I wasn’t ready. I wanted to talk to Owen. To tell him I was sorry for storming out. “How long will this take?” I asked frantically.
“You have somewhere pressing to be?” he asked with a laugh.
I looked at Tracy, giving her the look that hopefully said everything I needed to before the nurse wheeled my bed out of the room and down the hall. “It’ll all be okay,” she said, blowing me a kiss as I was pushed into the elevator.
Chapter Eight
Owen
“Owen?” I turned to see Tracy standing over me. My eyes opened. I took a look around, realizing I was still in the hospital waiting room.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
I slid up in my seat, stretched, and then reached for my cold coffee sitting on the table next to me. “Is she in surgery yet?” I asked.
“They just took her back. Have you been here all night?” Tracy asked.
I nodded, sipped my coffee. “I better get home,” I said, quickly standing and trying to escape the conversation I didn’t want to have. “How long until she’s
back?” I asked.
“They said about four hours, then two in recovery, before she’s back in her room,” she said.
“Cool,” I said, patting her on the back as I started to walk out.
Of course, she was behind me, and then beside me. Miss Pushy Busybody wasn’t going to let things go that easily. “When did you get here?” she asked.
“After I left Mr. Thompson’s.”
“And you haven’t left since?” she asked with that sappy tone in her voice and eyes to match.
“I fell asleep. That’s all,” I insisted. Her eyes batted in my direction. “Wipe that sappy look off your face,” I said, pushing open the exit doors.
“She asked about you,” she said, following me to my truck.
I stopped at the door, listening to her tell me about how she thought I viewed her as a charity case, and how it was all Tracy’s fault. “It’s not your fault,” I told her.
I climbed into my truck, started the engine, and winked at my overly involved cousin. “Are you coming back when she gets out of surgery? I know she’d love to see you,” she said.
I waved, pulled out of my spot, and headed down the road. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I was worried about her, that’s all. Why did it have to be anything other than that?
Charlie walked out of the barn as I pulled up. “How is she?” he asked.
“A few broken ribs, a broken arm, but she’ll live,” I answered.
We walked back into the barn to check on Carlos. He was strong, eating on his own, and seemed happy to see me. I laughed when he shoved his nose against my arm as I walked into his stable. “He’s doin’ much better,” I said.
“Charlotte has the magic touch,” he smiled.
Yes, she does. More than he’ll ever know.
“So, she make it out of surgery?” he asked.
“She’s in there now.”
“You headin’ back up there after she’s out?” he asked.
What is with everyone?
“Probably not,” I replied, gripping a handful of grain to toss in Carlos’s bin.
He shook his head, narrowing his eyes on me as he watched my every move. “What?” I asked.
“You’re being stubborn,” he insisted.
“How do ya figure?” I asked, half-smiling as I spoke.
“You know you like this girl,” he said.
“Look, I’m not the one who keeps walking out,” I defended.
“It seems to me she’s been hurt pretty bad. Sounds like someone else I know,” he said.
My stomach flipped upside down. I knew he was referring to me, and I knew it was about Lana. He had been there for all of it, except the fucking my fiancée part. Thank God he’d had enough sense not to take part in that fiasco. He was the only true friend I really had. “It’s not about Lana,” I said calmly. “I’m over that,” I insisted.
I was over it, or at least, I was over her. Maybe I did still have some trust issues to get over, but it still wasn’t me that walked out or ran out. It hurt like hell when I got home that day to find her already gone, and it wasn’t no walk in the park when she grabbed her clothes and left me at the pond. I wasn’t ready for that kind of pain again. I was doing just fine without it.
“I’m too busy for a relationship,” I snorted.
“Bullshit,” Charlie scoffed. “I’ve watched you night after night go into the lonely, empty house and eat a sandwich in front of the TV. You don’t go out, you don’t spend any time with friends, and you certainly don’t date. You need a life, Owen. You deserve one,” he argued.
“You’re my friend. And I work all day, so yeah, I’m too tired to go out,” I snapped.
“You need more than just a friend in your life. And, this place, hell, you’ve got it running like a well-oiled machine. You don’t need to work so hard anymore, you know that,” he said.
He was right. The ranch was finally running smoothly. After years of hard work, the majority of it was now self-sustaining. What did need done, Scott and Charlie could take care of without my help. “I like working out here,” I said.
He nodded. I watched his eyes shift back and forth on me as he leaned against the stable gate.
“This was your dream. But, your dream included a family. You chose the wrong girl, that’s all. But, looks like you found the perfect one now,” he said.
“Nobody’s perfect,” I chuckled.
Carlos continued eating as I brushed his mane. Watching her nuzzle him, caress him, and offer her maternal spirit to nurture him to health had been pretty spectacular, almost perfect.
“She loves animals, she’s beautiful, smart, doesn’t mind getting dirty, and for whatever reason, she seems to really like you,” he said with a smile.
I stared into the old man’s eyes. They were filled with wisdom. I knew that. I didn’t want to listen, but I knew he was right.
“I’m heading home,” he said, patting me on the back.
“It’s Sunday, and I want to spend some time with my wife, maybe even the kids if they aren’t too busy,” he said, winking as he walked out of the barn. “Enjoy your sandwich,” he called out as he opened his truck door.
My heart ached. I was filled with confusion. Should I give it one more try? What if she runs away again? It will hurt a thousand times worse the next time if I let her get any closer to my heart.
I was a mess from birthing a foal, so I patted Carlos on the head and went into the house to wash up. A hot shower, some breakfast, and maybe a fresh cup of coffee would clear my mind. Then I’d know what to do.
Chapter Nine
Charlotte
My eyes opened in another bright room. The walls were painted a clean white, the curtains hanging on the large window were drawn to let the sunlight in, and everything looked sterile.
“You’re awake,” a nurse said, leaning down to make eye contact. “How do you feel?” she asked.
I couldn’t feel anything. I tried to speak, but that familiar soreness was back. “Don’t speak if it hurts. Just nod,” she said. “Are you in any pain?”
I shook my head.
“Can you feel this?”
I felt her poke my arm. I nodded.
“Great.” She disappeared.
My arm was now wearing a large cast. A pin stuck out of my wrist with a large, pink ball on the end of it. Ugh. How am I going to find a job now?
The doctor, Doctor Jack, walked into my room. He was smiling, so I assumed that was a good sign. He shuffled through my chart, pausing to look up at me occasionally, and then inspected my arm, admiring his work with a smile. “Everything looks great,” he said. “The surgery went very well. You’ll have the pins removed in six weeks, after that, another couple weeks and you should be back to new. I don’t see any reason to keep you. The nurses will get your discharge papers ready and explain your at-home care instructions,” he said quickly, and then rushed out of the room before I could ask any questions.
I tried to scoot up, but I couldn’t. The nurse came back in, holding some papers. “We are going to discharge you. Do you have anyone waiting to take you home?” she asked.
“I’ll call a cab,” I said quietly.
She gave me a look of pity, one that I didn’t need right in that moment. That was what had got me into this situation in the first place: pity. “There’s no one I can call for you?” she asked.
I shook my head.
I knew I could call Tracy, but I didn’t see the need. I could get a cab. It was just a broken arm and a few broken ribs. “You really need someone with you during the first few hours after surgery. The medication is pretty strong, and we can’t have you trying to do something that could destroy the surgeon’s work,” she said, tilting her head sideways as she smiled.
“Tracy,” I mumbled.
Her smile widened as she gripped the papers. “Awesome. Give her a call, and I’ll speak to her,” she said, handing me my cell phone from a plastic bag containing my belongings.
“Where are my clothes?” I
asked.
“I’m sorry. They had to cut them off of you when you came in,” she frowned.
My throat hurt to talk, but I wanted to scream. What was I supposed to wear home? This gown with no back?
I found Tracy’s number and handed the nurse my phone when it started ringing. I heard her answer, and her voice echo through the speaker. The nurse explained that I needed a ride home, and someone to care for me for a few hours, possibly overnight. “Of course. I’ll be right there,” Tracy’s voice echoed into the room.
My body relaxed, leaning back into the stiff mattress on the hospital bed as the nurse stuffed my phone back into my bag.
“Do not wrap anything around your body to splint your ribs. Practice soft coughing and breathing exercises to avoid a collapsed lung, and apply ice as needed to reduce pain. It looks like the doctor gave you Percocet for pain, so that will work for both your arm and your ribs. Take it as prescribed, and with food. You should be back here in six weeks to get your pins removed, and by then your ribs should be healed, allowing you to go back to your normal lifestyle,” the nurse rattled off so many instructions I could barely keep up.
“Six weeks?” I asked, feeling my eyes well up with tears of frustration. “I don’t have anyone to take care of me for six weeks,” I said, fighting the urge to sob.
“Yes, you do,” I turned to see Owen standing in my doorway.
My mouth fell open, but I couldn’t speak.
“She’s in good hands,” Owen said, taking the papers from the nurse’s hand.
His tall, muscular frame stood over me, his smile brightening the already well-lit room. I stared into his blue eyes, trying to figure out if I was dreaming. I had to be dreaming.
“Tracy said she’s coming to pick me up,” I mumbled.
“I told her to stay home,” he said sweetly.
He fumbled through the papers, and then smiled. “Looks like you’ll have to stay with me for a while,” he said.
“I can’t,” I protested.
“You don’t think I can take care of you?” he asked, his eyebrow rising high on his forehead.
I smiled. “It’s too much. Why would you even want to?” I asked.
My head was spinning. I was still loopy from the medicine. This had to be a dream.
