That’s the way you want it, right? She gathered the supplies and left the shed, remembering Landon holding her outside the shed, the rain pouring down on them. She remembered how safe she felt in his arms. He was a refuge in the storm.
All the more reason to keep away from him, Sam. You don’t needthat kind of false security.
Back in the house, she poured paint in the pan and ran the roller through it. Stay focused on the task, Sam, and forget everything else. When had worrying done any good?
Sam peeked out at Caden periodically. Her daughter didn’t move from her spot on the end of the pier. How many hours had Sam spent in that same spot? Often with Landon at her side, splashing her legs with his foot. Caden would be okay once they got back to Boston. Sam wished she could fast-forward through the week and be on the ferry back to the mainland now. She imagined the freedom she would feel as the island grew small on the horizon.
Suddenly Landon appeared in her daydream, waving good-bye from the shore. Stop it, Sam. She shook her head as if to dislodge the picture, then climbed on the ladder to reach the ceiling. The white paint went on smoothly, covering years of dirt and grime, obliterating evidence of Emmett’s smoking habit.
A few minutes later, she checked on Caden, reloaded the roller, and climbed the ladder, bracing her thighs against the top. The breeze had died down, leaving the air inside hot and still. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. A trickle of sweat ran down her back. Outside, a mower roared to life, and the scent of cut grass drifted through the window.
She extended the roller upward, and it hit the corner of the bedroom door, falling from her hand. Instinctively, she reached out, hoping to catch it before it hit the floor. Her hand grabbed at air. The movement unbalanced her. She clutched at the ladder, but it was too late.
Sam untangled her feet from the ladder, and they hit the floor first. But one foot landed on the roller handle and turned outward.
She heard a snap. A jolt of pain shot up her ankle. She smothered a groan. Sinking to the floor, she pulled her knee to her chest and rocked, squeezing her eyes shut. Sam focused on breathing. Inand out. In and out. Her breath caught every few seconds as if her body had forgotten how to breathe.
Sam eased her foot to the floor, wondering if she’d broken her ankle. At the very least, she’d snapped a ligament or tendon. She peeled off her sock inch by inch, shuddering at the pain the movement caused.
The flesh had begun to swell. She needed to get ice on it, quick. She couldn’t afford a trip to the doctor, but if it was only a tendon or ligament, she could handle it herself.
Sam’s ankle throbbed angrily. The kitchen seemed a mile away. How would she get all the way to the refrigerator? She lay back against the rug and moaned. The thought of moving her foot an inch was enough to make her cringe.
She needed Caden. After catching her breath, she propped herself up and sucked in air, releasing it with her daughter’s name as loudly as she could. She stilled, listening. All she heard was the mower that had started up awhile ago. With the noise of that, Caden wouldn’t hear her calling.
The phone. A quick scan of the living room told her it was only a couple of yards away, on the coffee table. She could get to that. She propped her weight on her palms and used her good foot to propel her backward. Her right foot dragging, she moved like an injured crab.
Sam clamped her teeth against the pain. She had broken one bone—her big toe, when she caught it in Landon’s bike tire—but this was worse. Her joint throbbed so hard, she could feel the injury in her head.
When she neared the table, she stopped and reached for the phone. She had two options, and one of them held no appeal. She punched in Miss Biddle’s number, then propped her foot on the coffee table to elevate it while the phone rang. She grimaced as her calf connected with the edge of the table.
The ankle had swollen to the size of a softball, and the flesh had deepened to a shade of purple. She thought she remembered hearing someone at Caden’s gym saying that swelling was good. Maybe she hadn’t broken it after all.
Sam realized the phone had rung at least a dozen times. Miss Biddle wasn’t home, apparently. She jabbed the off button. The mower hummed in the distance. Even so, she drew a breath and called Caden’s name again. Maybe she was near enough to hear now.
After calling three more times, Sam gave up. Elevating her foot had eased the pain to a bearable degree. Sam laid her head back against the sofa and caught her breath. She could call Melanie. She was sure Melanie wouldn’t mind coming over. Though it would take longer, it was better than having to call Landon to rescue her again.
Then she realized it was Sunday. Open-house day for Realtors. She punched in Melanie’s number anyway and let it ring. Please, pleasepick up. She wet her dry lips and stared at the refrigerator across the house and wished she could beam over the ice tray. Even once she got the ice on, then what? Would she be able to walk? Given the way her foot ached now, she couldn’t imagine it bearing her weight.
When Melanie’s machine clicked on, Sam hung up. There was no getting around it now. She turned the phone on and dialed Landon’s number.
“Hello?”
Sam paused, gathering her courage. “It’s me.”
“Sam.” His tone was so hopeful, she hated having to tell him the reason for her call.
“I need your help. I’m hurt.” Her foot slid downward an inch, and the edge of the table cut into her ankle. She sucked in her breath.
“I’ll be right there.” A click sounded in her ear.
She punched the off button and used her hands to reposition her ankle. Please don’t let it be broken. How would she finish the house if it was? Even if it wasn’t broken, how would she manage? And her job. Would she be back on her feet in seven days? She couldn’t afford more time off. Her credit card was nearly maxed, and her savings was gone.
Sam laid her head against the couch and closed her eyes, trying to block out the pain. Ten seconds later, Landon barreled through the door.
“What happened?” He was at her side before she could blink.
“My ankle. I fell off the ladder.” She felt stupid once the words rolled off her tongue. Who falls off an indoor ladder? There were only five steps on the thing, and it wasn’t like she was doing a high-wire act.
He looked at her foot, taking care not to touch the injury. What an idiot she was. Last night she got drunk, and Landon rescued her. Today she fell off a ladder, and Landon rescued her. It was a disturbing pattern.
Her independent streak rebelled. She didn’t want to be rescued. She wanted to take care of herself. She didn’t want to need him or anyone else.
You can’t even get to the fridge, Sam.
“Be right back.”
Sam watched him stride to the kitchen and open the freezer door. He wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off his V-shaped torso and muscular arms. Was it only last night that she’d planted kisses on his arm and snuggled against his neck?
She tore her gaze away from him and studied her ankle. It didn’t look like an ankle anymore. It looked like a bloated purple balloon. And it ached like the dickens.
He returned with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a paper towel.
Sam gritted her teeth when he set it on her ankle.
“We need to take you to the ER.”
She shook her head. Regardless of what her insurance might cover, her deductible was high and hadn’t been met. “It’ll be fine. The ice will help.”
He lifted the cold pack. “Look at it, Sam. It needs an X-ray.”
She tried to sit up, leaving her leg at a ninety-degree angle. She regretted the movement. “I think it’s just a ligament or tendon. I heard something snap.”
“What if it was a bone?” He adjusted the placement of the pack, wrapping it around the outside.
“Can’t you tell if it’s broken?”
“I’m a vet, not a doctor. It needs an X-ray.”
Sam huffed. “So examine it. I’ll bark twice if it hurts.�
� Okay, so the pain was affecting her attitude. Why didn’t he ever listen to her?
He stood and walked to the door. “I’ll get my Jeep.”
“I never said I’d go,” she called as he left. The screen door slapping in place was her only answer.
Sam wanted to get up and lock the door. She was sure it wasn’t broken. She could just prop it up and rest, pop a couple of Advil, and it would be fine by morning. But she couldn’t get up. Even the thought of getting to his Jeep made her groan.
She knew there would be no deterring Landon at this point, and she was hardly in a position to fight. Sam was going to the ER whether she wanted to or not. She would have to charge her co-pay and worry about the rest of the deductible later. Maybe the house would sell quickly.
When he returned, she realized Caden would have to go with them. “Caden’s out on the pier—or she was. Could you get her?”
A moment later, she heard him calling Caden, then the soft rumble of his voice as he talked with her. While Sam waited, she took off the cold pack and lifted herself onto the couch. Her ankle, now level with her hips, pulsated with pain. She was about to elevate it on the couch’s arm when Caden and Landon entered.
“Mom?” Caden looked at Sam’s discolored, bloated ankle.
Sam tried to smile. “It’s fine, honey. It’s just a sprain.” She narrowed her eyes at Landon. “But Mr. Reed seems to think I need a doctor.”
Landon hung back in the kitchen while Caden sat by her on the couch. Sam placed the bag of peas back on her ankle. The swelling had gotten worse, if anything.
Landon returned with a glass of water and three Advil. Despite Sam’s ire, she wanted to hug him. She gulped the pills and set the glass on the table.
Caden watched silently while Landon slid his hands under Sam and eased her off the couch. She held her foot as steady as possible, but there was no stopping the agony. She settled her arms around his neck as he turned toward the door.
The Advil had put a small dent in the pain, and now that it was elevated on the gurney, the ache eased. The doctor examined it and took X-rays. Now they waited for a verdict.
“How you feeling?” Landon asked from his chair beside her bed. The soggy bag of peas lay across his thigh.
“Better.” Sam looked at Caden next to Landon. Her daughter did her best to fake nonchalance, but Sam knew she was worried. She gestured toward the peas. “Guess you got out of eating those, huh?”
Caden’s mouth turned up a bit.
The doctor entered the room with an X-ray film, which he put on a board on the wall. The light flicked on. He studied the picture, tilting his head back to look through his tiny glasses.
Seconds later he flipped off the light and turned to Sam. “No break, young lady. Looks like you’ve torn a ligament, though.”
Sam exhaled in relief. “Just as I thought.” After sending Landon an I-told-you-so look, she asked the next question bearing down on her. “How long will it take to heal?” She had to finish painting and apply polyurethane to the floors. Those things were absolutely necessary.
“I’ll send a nurse in with an instruction sheet, but you need to stay off your feet for forty-eight hours. After that, you can gradually ease your weight back on it. I suggest using a crutch at first. You tore it pretty badly.”
Forty-eight hours? “I can’t stay off it for two days.” She would barely get finished as it was.
“You will if you want it to heal correctly. I can give you a doctor’s excuse for work if you need one.”
That was a whole other concern. “How long will it take to get back to work?”
“Acute ankle sprains heal in two to six weeks.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. Hers had better heal in one week, or Patty was going to have a fit.
“I’ll send the nurse in. Take care, now.” The doctor left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
“Not what you wanted to hear,” Landon said. “But at least it’s not broken.”
Sam swallowed. “You don’t understand. I have to be back at work next Monday. I don’t have six weeks. I don’t even have two.”
“I think he meant it takes that long for it to heal completely. Maybe if you rest it over the next seven days, you’ll be able to work, even if you have to limp a little. You can wrap the ankle in order to stabilize it.”
Rest it the next week? Landon knew she couldn’t do that. The cottage had to be finished. She wouldn’t be able to get away from work even for a weekend to come back and work on it. Not with all the time she’d taken off already. Not to mention the travel expense of going back and forth.
Frustration lumped in her throat. “I have to finish the cottage.” Couldn’t he see how important this was? She’d worked so hard to get it done. For Caden’s future.
The nurse came to give her take-home instructions. Rest. No pressure on it at all. Ice. Compression. Elevation. For forty-eight hours. After delivering the directions, she left to retrieve a wheelchair.
“I can help, Mom.” Caden’s small voice begged her attention. Her mask of indifference had lifted, and Sam caught a glimpse of the old Caden.
“With what?”
“The painting and stuff. I can do it.”
Caden couldn’t possibly do all the work. Sam was proud she’d offered. She smiled at her daughter. “I appreciate that, hon.” The ache in her ankle made her want to check out for a while. “We’ll figure it out later, all right?”
There was really nothing to figure out. Sam would have to do the work. She could load up on painkillers and paint on one leg, right? She’d wrap her ankle during the day and elevate and ice it at night. She could hop around to keep her weight off it. She imagined the jarring it would cause and cringed. Maybe she could borrow a crutch from someone.
Landon came to her bedside and rested his hands on the metal rails. “I see that look in your eyes.”
“What?” she asked innocently.
“You need to do what the doc said. Otherwise, you won’t be able to work come next Monday. Or worse yet, your ankle won’t heal right.”
Sam lowered her voice so Caden wouldn’t hear. “You know I can’t do that. There’s too much work for a kid. The floors will be a challenge even for me.”
“Then just leave it. Does it really matter if they’re done? The house will sell as is.”
How could he understand how much every dollar counted to her? He was a successful veterinarian, and she was a struggling single mother. “You wouldn’t understand.”
A house in tiptop shape could fetch thousands more than a house that still needed work. Stopping now was like throwing thousands of dollars into the sea. She’d worked too hard to be so wasteful.
“I can see by the stubborn set of your jaw that I’m wasting my breath.”
Good. Maybe he would stop pestering her about it.
He sighed. “Fine. I’ll take off work this week and—”
“No,” she said firmly. She wasn’t putting him out again. He was always helping her.
“—move my appointments to next week. I can just work extra hours . . . when you’re gone.” Something deadened in his eyes when he said the last part. He looked down as his fists tightened around the bed rail.
“No,” she said again. “This is my problem, and I’ll handle it.”
“I’ve got vacation time coming, no big deal.” He shrugged one shoulder.
“Some vacation. You’ll work on my house all week, then work extra hours when you get back.”
“We’re friends. Friends are there for each other, right?” His green eyes warmed again. For just a moment she wanted to get lost in them.
He made it sound like nothing. Sure, friends were supposed to be there for each other, but why was it always him being there for her? It made her feel needy. She wasn’t needy.
The nurse entered with a wheelchair, her wide hips swaying. “All right, Miss Owens, let’s get you on your way.”
Sam sat up, giving Landon one last look. “This conversation isn’t over
,” she said quietly.
He smiled, a little too cocky for her liking. “It is. You just don’t know it yet.”
Twenty-three
From Sam’s vantage on the couch, she watched Landon and Caden roll on paint. Pillows propped up her foot on the coffee table, and Ace bandages encompassed her swollen ankle.
The pain was better today but had awakened her at least a dozen times in the night, forcing her to hobble from the couch through the house for the Advil.
Since this morning, though, Caden hadn’t let her get up once. Landon came early and set to work. Caden dutifully brought out the bag of peas every three hours and set the timer on the stove for twenty minutes.
Sam measured time by her ice pack. The TV was off by her own choice; there was nothing worthwhile to watch. Caden tuned the radio to an oldies station, and as Sam watched Landon pour paint into the pan, she tapped her fingers to the upbeat tune.
“Hungry yet?” he asked.
She was tempted to say yes just to relieve the boredom. “No.”
“Need more Advil?”
“It’s not time yet,” Caden answered. “The bottle says every four to six hours.”
“Okay, then, Nurse Owens.” Landon tossed Caden a smile.
Sam was surprised at her daughter’s response to the injury. She’d never seen this mother hen side, and she realized Caden would make a great big sister. After their argument the day before, she was relieved her daughter’s anger had been curbed, even though it had taken an injury to do so.
Still, Sam felt better about staying within earshot of Caden and Landon. One slip was all it would take to unload her secret and change everything.
Awhile later, Landon prepared a simple lunch and carried it to the backyard, then he lifted Sam off the sofa as if she weighed nothing.
Sam rested her arm on his shoulder. “This is ridiculous. I feel so helpless.”
“You’re not helpless, just injured. Let someone lend a hand for a change.”
She tried to relax her body in his arms. He was always helping her, for heaven’s sake. And you’re always pushing him away.
Caden was diving into her sandwich when Landon settled Sam into a chair and pulled up another one to elevate her foot.
Nantucket Romance 3-in-1 Bundle Page 15
