Chapter 2 #2
“Don’t go anywhere. We aren’t finished.” Naudi is still in pain from moving, so her fierce scowl doesn’t hit with the same degree of ire.
But I get it. It isn’t a threat. It sounds like a promise of retribution if I leave.
I step back as the nurse rolls Naudi by with her stare locked on to mine until the last possible second. Even when the curtain closes behind them, a chill runs down my spine.
A premonition of something unfinished hangs between us.
I do stick around. I feel like I owe it to the woman I ran over, however unintentionally.
David Caldwell, the sheriff, shows up needing a statement for his report on the accident. His wife, Shyanne, is friends with Naudi and I promise to let them know how she is.
After an hour passes, I call my dad and explain what happened and where I am and ask him to get another shipment packed and delivered to the ferry for its five PM trip back to the mainland.
I’m like my dad in a lot of ways. We’re of similar size and build with me being about an inch over his six feet.
Our hair used to be the same shade of brown until his started turning gray.
My three sisters have the same brown hair.
We even have the same blue eyes. Where I differ from my dad is socially.
If he’d called me with the same request, I would have agreed, hung up, and got it done.
I don’t care about the when, the why, or the how.
Give me the facts and next steps. That’s the only important information.
But my dad has a million follow-up questions.
Questions I don’t have answers to or don’t want to answer.
Like the being engaged part. He doesn’t need to know how badly I’d messed up.
It’s about two hours before they call me back to the same curtained-off exam room. When I walk in, the doctor’s there, looking at a laptop on a standing mobile desk. Naudi is back in bed, her color still off, and her expression the same as when she left.
“So, it looks like you are one very lucky woman. No fractures. No internal injuries. Only a mild concussion and a few bruises along with a sprained wrist. We won’t need to airlift you to the mainland.”
“Good, then I can go.” She starts to get up, but the doctor stops her.
“These may be mild injuries, but they still require care,” he tells her. “You’ll need to rest, limit movement, and most importantly, you cannot be alone for the next seventy-two hours.”
That gets her attention. “I live alone.”
The doctor looks at me and waits, for what I have no idea, and then goes back to looking at the laptop. “Since you have no one to stay with you, I can check you into the care facility for three days.”
“No,” Naudi and I say in unison.
Both her eyes and the doctor’s move to me. “She’ll stay with me.” The words are out before I think them through. I do that a lot.
This time when I look at Naudi, I see something in her eyes I haven’t seen from her before. Not anger. Not irritation. Those I’m used to. This is something closer to surprise.
“Excellent.” The doctor nods, satisfied. “I’ll get your discharge paperwork ready.”
Once he leaves, I don’t know what to expect.
She could light into me for offering her a way to leave the clinic.
Nobody actually likes having to stay. Even overnight is too much.
Maybe I overstepped. I feel pressure in my chest from my familiar insecurities, and I start rubbing it to relieve the building stress.
“You don’t have to do this,” she says softly.
“I know.”
She tips her head like she’s trying to figure me out. Good luck with that. Evidently, she can’t come up with an answer, so she asks, “Then why are you?”
I shrug even though the answer isn’t that simple. “Because you need someone.”
That is definitely the wrong thing to say. She must have grown two inches, rising up out of the bed with her shoulders squared in determination. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a lot of years.”
“I have no doubt of that,” I agree. “Just not today. Or the next three days to be exact.”
Her lips press together. She wants to argue and can’t find solid ground to stand on. It’s easy to see she’s searching for an alternative. By the droop of her shoulders, her decision comes quickly. I’m her only ticket out the door.
Almost two hours later, paperwork has been signed, and I’ve been given post-hospital care instructions. We’re in my truck with the engine started before I realize I have no idea where she lives.
“You can take me home,” she says.
“That’s where we’re going. What’s the address?”
“I have an apartment over my store. You can just drop me off in front.”
I raise my brow to let her know that’s not going to work.
With a heavy sigh, she gives up. “Fine, you can park in the alley in back.”
Silence settles between us as I pull out of the lot, the kind that isn’t uncomfortable, but it isn’t easy either. I’m not much for chitchat.
“Just so you know, I don’t have much food at home. You’ll starve. And there’s only one bed. You’ll be sleeping on a very uncomfortable, short couch.”
She’s delusional if she thinks that’s a deterrent to keep me away. “Well, we could stay at my house? There’s plenty of empty bedrooms.”
That’s the truth. My three sisters’ bedrooms haven’t been touched since they left home.
I wonder if she’d want Caroline’s room with the boy band posters on the walls, Lily’s room with the periodic table and gross medical charts on the walls or Sophie’s room that looks like a princess once lived there, complete with a pink, fluffy canopy bed. Then there are the guest rooms.
That zips her mouth up really quick.
I pull over and thumb out a text, pocket my phone, and pull back on the road. I bite my lip to keep from grinning. She almost vibrates with the need to ask about the text, but she restrains herself. Barely.
This might not be so bad after all. It might even be fun. But it would be wrong to get enjoyment out of her pain, right? I bite my lip again as I pull into the back alley behind her underwear store.