Teresa Southwick – What Makes A Father (страница 9)
“So he wanted to steal from you,” he said, seething with anger.
“That’s my guess.”
“Prince of a guy. Just oozing integrity. Damn right you dodged a bullet.”
“Wow,” she said. “Don’t sugarcoat it. Tell me how you really feel.”
“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings.” That was completely sincere. He would never hurt her. Not deliberately. But he couldn’t hold this back. “I just have to ask. What the hell did you ever see in that guy?”
Her hazel eyes turned more green than gold. It was a clue that he’d crossed a line. Her next words confirmed that he’d said something wrong.
High color appeared on her cheeks. “It’s really easy to be on the outside looking in and draw conclusions. I’ve known you, what? Fifteen minutes? Yes, we share the babies and you’re their father. Calling them brats makes him lower than pond scum. But I get to say that. You don’t get a say about my personal life, especially for something that happened before I met you.”
“Annie, I—”
She held up a hand. “Now is not a good time to talk. I have another bag of stuff to bring inside. I’ll get it,” she said when he was about to offer. “I’m embarrassed by what just happened and taking it out on you. I need the exercise to shake off this unreasonable reaction.”
Without another word, she walked out the door. Mason let her go even though every instinct was pushing him to go after her. But moments later he heard her cry out just before a scream of pain. He rushed outside and looked down. Annie was in a heap on the cement at the bottom of the stairs.
One minute Annie was walking down the stairs, the next she was falling and desperately reaching out for something to stop the downward plunge. Something stopped her, all right. It was called cement. A jarring pain shot through her right leg. She cried out just before it took her breath away. Moments later Mason was there.
“Don’t move,” he ordered.
“Fat chance,” she managed to choke out. “Knocked the…wind out…of me.”
“Where does it hurt?” He ran his hands over her head and down her body. “Did you hit your head?”
“No. My leg.”
After helping her to a sitting position, he gently touched her knee and shin. Searing pain made her cry out. “Ow!”
He slid her sandal off and put two fingers on her ankle, a serious expression on his face. Apparently he noticed her questioning look because he said, “I’m checking the pulse—blood circulation.”
“Why?”
“Make sure nothing is restricting it,” he said.
She was almost afraid to hear the answer but asked anyway. “What would be doing that?”
“The bone.”
Yup, she was right. Didn’t want to know that. Then he checked her foot and dragged his thumb lightly across the arch. It tickled and she involuntarily moved, sending a sharp pain up her leg.
“Ow—” She gritted her teeth because she wanted so badly to cry.
“Do you have scissors?”
“Kitchen drawer. What are you—?”
But he was gone and she heard his footsteps racing up the stairs. He was back in less than a minute with her heavy shears in his hand. He positioned them at the hem of her slacks.
“You’re going to cut them?”
“Yes. I’m concerned about swelling. They’ll do it at the hospital anyway. I think your leg is broken.”
“No. I don’t have time for that.”
He met her gaze, and his was serious and doctorly. “You’re going to have to make time. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“Can’t you brace it with a couple of tree branches and wrap it in strips from a dirty T-shirt?”
One corner of his mouth curved up. “You’ve been watching too many action shows on TV.”
That was probably true. “You could be wrong. Maybe it’s just a really painful sprain and you’re overreacting.”
“I hope I am.” His serious tone said he was pretty sure that wasn’t the case. “You still need an X-ray to make sure. I’m taking you to my emergency room to get it checked out.”
“Oh, bother—” She closed her eyes and tried not to move and make it hurt more. “I’ve been up and down those stairs more than a hundred times. How did this happen?”
“My guess is you tripped over that box of disposable diapers.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket.
“Oh.” Vaguely she remembered bringing bags from the car and trying to take as much as possible in one trip. Between her parking spot and the flight of steps, the box started slipping so she’d set it on one of the steps near the bottom, intending to grab it when she got the last bag. What with the Dwayne drama, she’d forgotten all about it. It was a big box because she went through a lot of diapers—“Mason, the babies!”
“It’s all right. I’m calling my mom. She’ll take care of them.”
“But they’re my responsibility—”
“And mine,” he quietly reminded her. “But everyone needs help sometime, Annie. And you really don’t have a choice right now.”
She hated that he was right.
While they waited for his mother, he fashioned a splint from a cardboard mailing box and duct tape to immobilize her leg. Then he filled a plastic bag with ice, wrapped it in a towel and put it on the injured limb to reduce swelling. Flo got there in record time and gave Annie a quick hug and reassuring smile before hurrying up the stairs to handle the twins.
“Okay,” Mason said, “let’s get you to the car.” He helped her stand without putting any weight on the injured leg but the movement sent pain grinding through her. There was a grim look on his face when she cried out. “I was afraid of that. Either I carry you or we call paramedics.”
“No ambulance.”
“That’s what I thought. This will be faster and less painful. Brace yourself. Deep breath.”
He gently lifted her and she slid her arms around his neck then held on. In spite of the pain, she had that familiar feeling of safety when he held her and closed her eyes while he moved as quickly as he could without jostling her too much. His SUV was at the curb in front of the complex and he got her into the rear, where she propped the bad leg up across the leather seats.
When they arrived at the emergency room entrance, someone in scrubs was waiting at the curb with a wheelchair. Mason quietly but firmly directed that she be taken to Radiology and he would meet them there with paperwork. He was as good as his word and while waiting for the X-ray tech to take her back she filled out medical forms and insurance information.
It turned out that the scrubs guy was an ER nurse who worked closely with Mason—Dr. Blackburne. He told her that Mason was smart, skilled and one of the best diagnosticians he’d ever known. Everyone liked him. And his combat medical experience saved more than one life during a recent MVA trauma—motor vehicle accident involving multiple cars and victims with critical, life-threatening injuries.
“I think this is just a bad leg sprain,” Annie told him. “But Mason believes it’s broken.”
“Hate to say it, but he’s probably right.”
It turned out that he was.
After the films were taken, Mason got them to the front of the line to be read by the radiologist.
Annie was sitting on a gurney in Emergency with the curtain pulled when he came to give her the results.
“I have good news and bad,” he said.
“Don’t ask which I want first. Just tell me the worst,” she said.
“It’s broken.” There was sympathy in his eyes, not the satisfaction of being right. “You’ll need to be in a cast.”
“How long?”
“That’s up to the orthopedic doc. In a few minutes he’s going to set it—”
“And plaster it?” she asked.
“Probably fiberglass. It’s lighter. The goal is to control your pain and swelling, then keep it immobilized while the bone heals.”
She folded her arms over her chest and frowned at him. “I see no good news in that scenario.”
“It won’t require surgery to set the bone.”
“Does that mean I can walk on it?” she asked hopefully.
“No. Non-weight-bearing for six to eight weeks depending on how fast you heal and whether or not you follow doctor’s orders.”