by Sarah Title
“What?”
“Is Myron here? Just tell me.”
“No, of course not, it’s the middle of the night.”
She cursed under her breath, and he knew it was really serious. “Lindsey, what’s wrong? Come in, let’s—”
“No, I have to find him. He’s missing.”
“What? When?”
“Tonight. I don’t know how long ago. A few hours, maybe. Is there anywhere in town that he would go? Favorite spots? Where did you take him when you guys went out?”
Walker started a mental inventory: the Duck Puddle, the Daily Drip, the high school. There were so many. “Give me your keys. I’ll drive.”
They found him by the side of the road, where the shoulder sank down into a low ditch. It was dark, and Myron was barely conscious. They would have walked right by him if Booger hadn’t suddenly gone nuts, running down the road as Walker chased him, then back and forth between him and what Walker soon discovered was his friend, his face twisted in pain. Walker cursed the time they’d taken to meet up at Shady Grove first, even though all that accomplished was Lindsey comforting a freaking-out Hope while Booger, who had jumped in the car back at the house, jumped out again, running loose inside, then tearing out the door and down the road.
Walker shouted. He slid down next to Myron, checked his breathing.
“My ankle,” Myron groaned, and Walker saw it, twisted at a strange angle in his slippers.
He tried to think. Booger was barking his head off and Walker couldn’t think. He should lift Myron up. He could carry him back to Shady Grove. He wasn’t that heavy. It wasn’t that far. But as he put his arms under Myron’s back, the old man shouted out in pain, then cursed at Walker.
“No! Don’t move him.” Suddenly Lindsey was by his side, her pants covered in mud where she had slid down next to him. “Where does it hurt, Mr. Harris?”
“His ankle,” said Walker. She thrust her flashlight into his hands. “Hold this on him. Do you have your phone?” Walker nodded. “Can you hold the flashlight and call 911?” Walker nodded, then did as she asked, propping the flashlight under his chin while he dug his phone out and dialed.
“Mr. Harris?”
“Dammit, call me Myron!”
Walker laughed with relief. If Myron was cursing, he would live.
“Myron, I need you to be as still as you can.” While she ordered him around, she was pulling off her raincoat, laying it over him. “What happened? What were you doing out here?” Booger ran circles around them, stopping to lick Myron’s head and whimper in concern.
“I just slipped, that’s all. My damn ankle,” he said, ignoring her second question.
“Does anything else hurt? Hands? Arms? Head?” She took the flashlight from Walker and shined the light quickly in Myron’s eyes.
“Get that out of my face! And get that dog off me!”
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
“How many am I holding up?” he grunted, then gestured in a very impolite manner.
“Twenty minutes or so,” Walker told Lindsey.
“Okay. God, that’s a long time.”
“There’s a fire in the next county.”
“I’d like to get him out of the mud. I don’t want him getting hypothermia.”
Walker moved to get under Myron again. He would have carried him to the hospital, but Lindsey stopped him. “Wait.”
She ran into the woods and came back with two short, thick branches. “Take these for a second.” She tore off her sweatshirt, then took the branches back. “I’m going to make a splint, Myron. It will hurt for a second, but this will stabilize your ankle so we can move you, okay?”
Myron yelled in response as Lindsey gingerly lifted his foot and ran the sweatshirt underneath it. She wrapped the branches against his ankle, then tied it tightly. “Okay, can you lift him?” she asked Walker.
Finally feeling useful, Walker worked his hands under Myron’s slim body. Lindsey held gently onto the ankle and Walker stood. “Careful,” she murmured. Once he got to the road, Walker wanted to run up the driveway to the nursing home. He could see the lobby lights in the distance, then a pair of headlights. Booger stood next to him, barking at the Shady Grove van.
“Good boy,” Lindsey said, and flagged it down. Glen had been called in on the search, and he pulled up next to them, hopped out and helped Walker load Myron onto the bench seat. Lindsey took Walker’s phone from him and gently pushed him into the passenger seat, and Booger jumped in next to him and took position facing away from the windshield.
Lindsey climbed in next to Myron and Walker heard her calling to re-route the ambulance to Shady Grove instead of to a ditch by the side of the road. He heard Myron groan and turned around to see Lindsey clasping his hand, her T-shirt caked with mud, Booger’s head on Myron’s lap. Walker turned around to face the lights of the nursing home so she wouldn’t see the tears welling in his eyes.
“He’s in good hands.”
Walker looked like he wanted to throw a chair or bend a pipe, he was so tense. She put her hand on his shoulder and felt the heat radiating off him. It felt kind of good. She was wet and cold.
“They’ll just be a few more minutes, then they’ll want to take him to the hospital for X-rays and to make sure he’s okay.”
“It’s just a broken leg, right? Nothing more?”
She sat down next to him and took his hand. “I think so. But they have to make sure his blood pressure stays okay, and he was out there for a little while, so they’ll need to make sure he doesn’t have hypothermia. In my experience, they usually keep seniors overnight, even if it’s just for observation.”
“But he’ll be okay?” She heard the crack in his voice and she wanted to wrap her arms around him, but he was squeezing the life out of her hand and she didn’t think he would let her go.
“Do you want to go with him?”
“Yes,” he answered before she even finished the question.
“I’ll call his daughter.”
“Oh, right. She’ll want to come down.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I was supposed to take care of him.”
“Walker.” Still holding onto his hand, she squatted in front of him.
“He was coming to see me. He knew I was upset about . . .” He trailed off, and Lindsey didn’t let herself finish Walker’s thought. Because if Myron had run off because she and Walker were fighting, this was her fault, too.
Walker cleared his throat. “My father, and everything. But I told him I was going to see him in the morning. I was going to bike over and meet him for breakfast. Why couldn’t he wait?”
“I don’t know. But, Walker, Myron made the decision to sneak out on his own. It was a stupid decision, but it was his. And I think he was confused. But there was absolutely nothing you could have done to prevent him from doing that.” That sounded pretty convincing. She hoped it worked on Walker, because it sure wasn’t working on her. “That was our job.”
He shook his head.
“And you found him. You saved him,” she reminded him.
“Booger found him. You saved him. I just stood there.”
“Okay, that’s it. I’m not going to entertain this pity party any more. I’m wet, I’m cold, and I have to write up a report about this. Go to the hospital. I’ll stop by and check on him. I’ll bring some of his stuff. I’ll call his daughter.”
Visiting hours were long over, but Walker couldn’t bring himself to leave. He also couldn’t bring himself to get comfortable in the waiting room chairs. Good thing he was used to not sleeping.
Myron was sleeping. He had taken some pretty serious pain medicine and didn’t recognize Walker, but when he talked to his daughter on the phone, he knew her. He was talking crazy loopy to her, but he knew her.
She would be there in the morning. Walker offered her his room. He would sleep on the couch.
Good thing he was used to not sleeping.
“Hey.”
He turned around and b
linked. He hadn’t realized how bleary his eyes had gotten. He thought it was just the TV being weird. But, no. There was fuzzy Lindsey, and then, as she stepped forward, clearer Lindsey. She was still wearing her muddy sweats, but she had an oversized UK sweatshirt on. Right. Because she’d destroyed her clothes saving Myron. She looked pale.
“Hey,” he said to the woman who had saved his best friend’s life.
“You gonna stay here all night?” she asked, taking a seat on the bench next to him.
“I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“The nurse said he’s sleeping.”
“Drugs.”
“And that he’s doing really well. Crabby, but well.”
“I know.”
“There’s nothing else you can do tonight.”
He sighed. “I know.” There was nothing he could do before, either.
“Walker.” He looked up at her as she stood. “Let’s go home.”
He let her take his hand and lead him out of the hospital.
Lindsey still had adrenaline pumping through her system. First from working on Myron, then from keeping her cool talking to Shady Grove’s lawyer, who chewed her out for calling Myron’s daughter before calling him.
The only thing that stopped her from punching him in his lawyer face was the look on Ned’s face. He was just as shocked and disgusted as she was.
She was going to go home, take a shower, and pass out. But she was still kind of hyper in a way that she hadn’t been since she’d first started nursing, when every emergency was her own personal responsibility. She’d felt that the life or death responsibility was hers alone, and not that of the team alongside her. In the ensuing years, she learned to separate herself from the job. She still cared, and probably more than was healthy, but she was able to put a sort of nurse-distance between her and her patients, especially when she was treating them.
But Myron wasn’t just a patient. He wasn’t just a resident of Shady Grove. He was her friend, and he was Walker’s friend.
She didn’t like to think that Walker would get him in the break-up, but she supposed Walker had first dibs on Myron. She looked at Walker, pale and tired in the passenger seat.
And just like that, she got her adrenaline crash.
It started with just a few tears. But then she saw Walker turn and she couldn’t help the sob that escaped her throat, and it got so bad that she had to pull over and just rest her head on the steering wheel and let it all out.
“Linds.” Walker pulled up the parking brake, then pulled her arm until she leaned into him and sobbed onto his shirt. He was much more comfortable than the steering wheel.
That did nothing to help her sobbing situation.
“Hey, are you okay? You’re shaking.”
“Ad-ad-adrenaline crash,” she stuttered.
“What do you need? Do we need to go back to the hospital?”
She shook her head. “Just give me a mi-mi-minute.”
He kept his arms around her as a minute turned into ten. At some point he turned the heat up, full blast, and the hot air and the hot Walker had her relaxing a little.
“I’m okay,” she said, sitting up and wiping her nose attractively on her borrowed sweatshirt.
“Let me drive,” he said, and before she could protest, he was out his door and had hers opened.
She was only going to half protest anyway.
When they got home, he walked her into her apartment. She needed a shower, and she needed to sleep. And probably to cry for another fifteen minutes or so. But before she could do any of that, Walker was in front of her, leading her into the bathroom, turning on the shower, pulling off her clothes.
“Let me take care of you,” he said as she started to protest. “Please.”
She looked into his eyes, and she understood what this meant to him. It was a gift. A gift of gratitude, a gift of recompense. She was too tired to think of what it meant beyond Walker handing her into the shower. She shivered as the hot water sluiced down her cold skin.
“Where are you going?” she asked when he let go of her hand.
“I’m going to make you something hot to drink.”
She shook her head and held out her hand to him.
“Lindsey, I should—”
She cut him off with another shake of her head.
He peeled off his clothes and joined her.
Lindsey was so grateful for Walker’s strength and warmth that she turned off the thinking part of her brain, the part that told her that this was a bad idea, that Walker had made it clear he was done with her, that she shouldn’t get used to the idea of turning to him for comfort.
Instead, when he stepped into the shower, she stepped into him. He wrapped his arms around her and that, combined with the hot water streaming down her back, got her shivering again.
“Are you still cold?” He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes bright with concern.
She shook her head. His eyes turned dark. She pulled his hips closer to hers and he bent his face down and kissed her.
It was hard and frantic, like the first time they kissed, but there was something deeper behind it. She knew him now, knew what he liked, knew that if she bit his lower lip he would growl and pull her closer. As he tightened his hold, her feet left the ground so she wrapped her legs around his waist. He grunted and she stopped kissing him, but instead of complaining, he kissed a hot trail down her neck and pushed her up against the shower wall. He moved his arms under her butt and lifted her higher, and then his mouth was on her breast and the feeling of his tongue and the hot water almost melted her. But then his grip slipped and she slammed her foot against the rim of the tub and he let her down gently.
When her feet were safely on the ground, he held her face and kissed her again and she leaned into him, feeling him hot and hard against her stomach. But then he was gone, turning the water off, and throwing the curtain back. He rubbed a towel over his head, then roughly over hers, and before she could tell him that, hey, she was not even close to done, he had pulled her close again, then parted her thighs and lifted her wet body against his.
“Hold on,” he said, and she did and he kissed her and walked her into the bedroom, dropping her on the bed so Booger jumped off in surprise.
The dog whined and ran out of the room, probably to sit on the couch he was not supposed to sit on. Lindsey didn’t care because Walker was on top of her, his mouth on her breast again, and she was clutching his shoulders and pulling him closer and he moved up to her mouth and she let out a gasp because suddenly he was inside her, filling her, making her whole, and then he moved and she came apart. He groaned his release into her mouth and collapsed, pulling her in close as he rolled to his side. She ran her hand up his chest and held him tight as their breathing slowed and their heartbeats lined up and before she could ask him to stay, she was asleep.
He didn’t want to sleep on the bed anyway. Even though it would probably be warm. Tonight, he was pooped, even more than the time Walker took him to the dog park and he ran and ran and ran until he thought his legs would fall off, and then another dog came and he ran and ran some more. That was a great day.
But today was a different kind of tired. They were both so freaked out and there was nothing he could do to make them feel better, but at least they let him stay close by. But then he had figured it out. When they got to the nursing home and he smelled Myron’s stuff, but not Myron. He would find him. His nose was strong. Even outside with the wind blowing all kinds of great smells around him, he didn’t stop in his mission. And he found Myron, and they petted him and dried him off and now he was tired.
He nosed his way under the blanket. This was a treat. Normally Lindsey told him to get off the couch once or twice before she finally let him sit under the blankets with her. But tonight he had the couch and the blanket all to himself and he stretched out under the blanket and before he knew it, he was chasing rabbits in his dreams.
When she woke up in the morning, Walker was gone.
>
Chapter 25
Myron was eating it up.
Not that he loved being in a wheelchair, but he couldn’t hide his pleasure at the blankets rearranged on his lap, the homemade cookies shared with him, the solicitous attention paid to his well-being. Even Eugene was being nice to him.
Lindsey was glad to have so many people keeping an eye on Myron. It had been an exhausting morning. Myron was released first thing, and Glen had gone in the van to pick him and his daughter up. As soon as Myron returned, he was effusive with apology and gratitude, which was so unlike him that Lindsey almost sent him back to the hospital. Then Darlene hugged her and cried and clung to her and said she was so sorry and so thankful to her, and it was nice to be appreciated, but Lindsey was still feeling a little fragile this morning and the sight of the other woman’s tears threatened to break down the small barrier keeping her own back.
Now Darlene was making arrangements to stay through the weekend, and Myron was enjoying Eugene reading to him, even though it was Jesse Stuart.
Lindsey was locking Myron’s pain pills up and adding a note to his chart about the additions to his medication. So she didn’t know that anyone else had come in until she heard the clicking of nails on the tile and then Booger was alternating between sniffing her shoes and jumping up to try to lick her face.
“Hey—” And then there was Walker in the doorway, empty leash in hand. “Hi,” he said, as he reached for Booger’s collar and reattached it. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s okay,” she said, ushering them out of the medicine closet and shutting the door behind them. “Hey, handsome.” She knelt down to scratch Booger behind his ears, and he immediately flopped down for a belly rub. She laughed, and tried not to look at Walker’s boots still standing there.
“I thought we’d check on Myron. Darlene called to tell me he was released this morning.”
“He’ll be glad to see you.”
Walker nodded, then rubbed the back of his neck. Uh-oh, Lindsey thought. “About last night—” he started.
