Chapter 15
Fifteen
New Year’s Eve
R uth stood before her mirror, smoothing down the shimmering gold and black sweater that hugged her figure in all the right places. Its off-the-shoulder cut added just the right amount of festivity, while the soft fabric promised comfort for a casual house party. She paired it with high-waisted black jeans and sleek heeled ankle boots—brand-new, a Christmas gift to herself she’d been eager to debut. Her red hair, loose in soft waves, fell over one shoulder. Gold earrings caught the light, matching the delicate necklace resting against her collarbone.
Tonight wasn’t just any New Year’s Eve party. Ethan and Molly’s home had become the hub for family gatherings since the birth of their little boy, Wyatt, and this year, Ruth felt a renewed determination to show up confident, poised, and ready for fun. Maybe the air crackling with possibility would allow her to talk to Noah without sleepiness nor her nerves getting in the way.
Grabbing her coat and purse, she checked her reflection one last time and stepped out into the biting winter night. A gust of wind caught her breath as she locked the door behind her. Snow had begun to fall again. She glanced around her and pulled her coat tighter. The driveway was a winter wonderland under the porch light, its icy surface a hidden threat.
Her boots clicked against the frozen pavement, the heels sharper and higher than she was used to when walking in the snow. She took careful steps, holding on to the handrail as she descended the stairs. Halfway across the driveway, her phone buzzed in her purse. She glanced down, fumbling to reach it—when her world tilted.
One misstep, a sickening slip, and she was airborne.
Time slowed. Her arms flailed as her feet lost their grip. Her body twisted, instinctively bracing for the fall. The crack of her wrist against the unforgiving concrete shot a jolt of pain straight to her core. She landed hard, the air forced from her lungs, gasping against the freezing cold that seeped into her jeans.
“Damn it!” she hissed through clenched teeth, cradling her wrist against her chest. A wave of nausea washed over her as the pain sharpened, radiating from her wrist up to her elbow. Her new boots lay mockingly perfect on her feet.
Tears pricked her eyes, more from frustration than pain. She lay there shaky and cold. Her wrist throbbed, an angry, swelling reminder of the humiliation she felt. The last thing she wanted to do was walk into Molly and Ethan’s house and disrupt the party with her drama.
Looking down at the swelling peeking out of her glove, she knew she couldn’t hide it. She winced at the thought of her mother’s and sisters’ worried fussing or Tristan’s no-nonsense doctor mode taking over. A trip to the ER would turn into an Everhart entourage.
First, she had to get up and make her way into the house without becoming a part of the driveway or falling again. Holding her arm against her chest, she rolled to her knees and dug a toe into the ice-snow mix. Awkwardly, she managed to stand.
One cautious step after another, she made it to the top of her steps. Concentrating, she unlocked the door and made it back into the warmth. Now what?
Noah. Her mind leapt to him like a lifeline. She bit her lip, debating. It was pathetic, really, calling him for something like this. But she didn’t trust herself to drive, and in the warmth, her wrist began to throb to her heartbeat. She took some deep breaths, trying to quell her nausea. Taking a deep breath, she dialed his number.
He picked up after two rings. “Ruth?”
“Noah.” Her voice wavered, a shaky betrayal. “Are you…on your way to Molly and Ethan’s?”
There was a pause on his end, filled with a quiet tension. “I left ten minutes ago for their place. What’s wrong? You don’t sound okay.”
Her laugh came out weak and thin. “I think I broke my wrist. I slipped on the ice. It’s nothing major?—”
“Do you need an ambulance?” His tone sharpened, no-nonsense and alert.
“No!” she blurted quickly, mortified. “I didn’t hit my head, and it’s not that bad,” her breathing hitched, “…I think. I don’t want to ruin everyone’s night. I’m just…” The words caught in her throat. “It hurts.” She sniffled.
There was a moment of silence, heavy with his concern. “Where are you?”
“I made it back inside my apartment.” She sniffed some more.
“Do you have ice on it?”
“No.”
“Put some ice on it,” he said with a softness she hadn’t heard before.
“I…I’ll get some,” she stammered.
“I’m coming,” he said firmly. “I’ll be there within an hour. Sit tight and stay warm.”
“Thank you, Noah.” She made her way to her refrigerator. After grabbing a bag of frozen corn niblets, she sat on her couch.
True to his word, Noah arrived just under an hour later, his truck rumbling into the driveway. By then, Ruth was curled on her couch, cocooned in a blanket, her wrist poorly wrapped in a dish towel stuffed with the corn. Her boots were kicked off, her vanity a distant memory.
The door swung open, her keys left in the lock. There he was—his broad frame filling the doorway, his face set in that mixture of worry and exasperation she had come to know.
“I’ve got your keys.” He jingled them on his pinky finger, not waiting for her to rise.
He looked at her and shook his head. “Your shoes?”
“By the door.” Her lip started to wobble.
He grabbed her UGGs, avoiding the black heeled boots, and her coat. He returned to her side. Without a word, he crouched, slipping her feet into the boots. “I think I would have been a great shoe salesman.” He discarded the now defrosted corn and replaced them with a bag of peas. He grabbed her throw, and after wrapping her carefully in her coat, he scooped her up as though she weighed nothing.
“Noah, you don’t have to… I can walk.”
“Shh,” he interrupted. “We’re going to the ER.”
He carried her to his truck, his movements gentle but efficient. After settling her into the passenger seat, he buckled her in, his touch steadying despite the tension she could see in his jaw. Peas in place, he covered her in the throw. As he rounded the hood to the driver’s side, she leaned her head back.
Noah climbed in, giving her a sidelong glance. “You okay?”
She nodded, though tears welled up again. “I didn’t want to ruin tonight.”
“You didn’t,” he said simply. “Now let’s get you taken care of.”
As he drove, Ruth let herself relax, the adrenaline fading, replaced by a strange kind of calm.
The ride to the ER was quiet except for the faint whoosh of the heater and the crunch of snow under Noah’s tires. Ruth sat cradling her wrist, her anxiety bubbling just beneath the surface. She couldn’t stop thinking about Molly and Ethan’s party, the countdown, the laughter—and how she was ruining it all with her clumsiness.
“Noah,” she broke the silence, “I hate that I’m doing this to everyone tonight. Molly and Ethan are going all out for New Year’s. We have so much to celebrate: the baby, Izzy’s rescue.” She moved to swipe her tears and cried out in pain from her broken wrist. “I’ll bet the house looks amazing, and now…”
“Stop,” Noah cut in gently but firmly, glancing at her before returning his focus to the road. “You didn’t plan this, Ruth. And they’d want you to take care of yourself first. I’ll call Alex and let him know what’s going on. He can tell everyone.”
Ruth sighed but nodded, her chest tight with guilt. Noah expertly maneuvered the truck into the parking lot of Pierre’s emergency room, its brightly lit sign glowing against the winter night.
When he turned off the ignition, Ruth grabbed the door handle. “I’m walking in,” she insisted, her voice brooking no argument.
Noah raised an eyebrow but didn’t fight her. “Fine. But if you look like you’re about to keel over, I’m carrying you.”
The ER waiting room was packed, as she’d feared. Victims of what appeared to be the flu and a handful of early revelers with minor injuries sat slumped in uncomfortable plastic chairs, their New Year’s spirit visibly dampened. The fluorescent lights cast a stark glow over everything, making the room feel even more impersonal.
Ruth signed in with her good hand and took a seat with Noah at her side, his watchful presence like a protective shield. She caught sight of him in the harsh lighting, his dark jacket snug against his broad shoulders, his sharp jawline accentuated by the shadows. She couldn’t help but blurt out, “You look really handsome tonight.”
Noah chuckled, his lips curving into a warm, lopsided smile. “You’re one to talk. You look beautiful, minus the black boots. Those need a timeout until the ice melts.”
She laughed despite herself, sniffing as she adjusted the peas ice pack on her wrist. “For the record, it was a telemarketer who called me.”
His brow arched. “Figures. The universe has great timing.” He swept some of her hair behind her ear.
Ruth sighed briefly, leaning into his touch.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
She looked at her ugly, swollen wrist pushing against her glove. “Hurts. Another Christmas gift is going to bite the dust. The gloves even had the touch screen pads.”
He chuckled. “I will get you a new pair.”
Ruth sighed, “Thank you.”
* * *
Their banter seemed to distract her until her name was finally called. As she rose, Noah immediately stood beside her, his protective instincts kicking in. He didn’t hover, but his eyes stayed sharp, scanning every move the staff made.
Inside the exam room, the attending nurse gently cut her glove free. Well, as gently as she could. Ruth closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. When the glove was removed, the swelling and darkened bruising on her wrist oozing toward her palm became evident. Noah winced inwardly but kept his expression neutral.
“Well, you look… festive,” the x-ray technician noted, gesturing to the gold sequins on her sweater that twinkled under the room’s lights. “Hope you can get to where you were going to celebrate the new year.” She used it as a distraction as she manipulated her wrist on the table.
Ruth cried out, her face crumpling with pain. Noah’s heart twisted at the sound, and he instinctively reached for her free hand. She squeezed his fingers tightly, her grip shaky.
“Just hang on,” he murmured. “You’re doing great.”
Ruth gritted her teeth as Noah’s gaze fixed on the injury. His gut churned—it looked bad.
After a quick x-ray, the diagnosis was in—both her radius and ulna were fractured. The young orthopedic resident reviewed the results. “You may need surgery. Maybe I can cast it, and you can come back on the second for the surgery. I want to confirm, this is your dominant hand?”
Ruth nodded and looked devastated, her breath hitching as the reality set in.
Noah leaned closer, his voice low and reassuring. “I’m calling Tristan. He’ll make sure you get the best care. No shortcuts.”
When Tristan called Noah back, his voice was calm but firm. “I’ve contacted the orthopedic attending and pulled up her x-ray. It looks like a clean break. The ulna didn’t displace; it just cracked. The radius displaced. He’ll try a closed reduction, but no guarantees it’ll work without surgery. It may displace the other fracture. They’ll use lidocaine to numb it, and the attending will reset it.”
Noah relayed the plan to Ruth, watching her pale but nod. “Let’s get this over with,” she whispered.
Another hour later, the orthopedist arrived, older and seasoned, with a confidence that immediately reassured Noah. The resident prepared the supplies under his supervision. Ruth lay on the exam bed, her trembling good hand still in Noah’s.
“First, a local anesthetic,” the orthopedist explained, holding up a syringe filled with lidocaine. “This will numb the area so you shouldn’t feel the reduction. It will keep it numb for six to eight hours.”
Ruth nodded, biting her lip as the needle slid into the swollen skin near her wrist. She winced but didn’t pull away, her fingers tightening on Noah’s hand.
“Almost done,” Noah said, his voice steady. “Just a few seconds more.” The doctor depressed the plunger on the syringe.
Once the area was numb, the orthopedist gently tested her wrist. “You’ll feel some pressure now but not pain. Let me know if it’s too much.”
Ruth tensed as he began manipulating the bone, his experienced hands guiding the radius back into alignment. The sickening grating sound made Noah’s stomach churn, but he kept his gaze locked on Ruth, not the procedure.
She let out a sharp cry despite the anesthetic, her face streaked with tears. Noah leaned in, his forehead nearly touching hers. “Breathe with me, Rae. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Rae —it was the first time he called her that, her initials. The new nickname distracted her briefly.
After several long, agonizing minutes, the orthopedist finally straightened, his expression satisfied. “All set. We’ll take another x-ray to confirm, then cast it.”
The x-ray showed a successful alignment, sparing her from surgery. Relief flickered across Ruth’s face as the resident returned to apply the cast. Noah stayed by her side, holding her steady as the wet plaster was molded around her forearm.
“It’s going to be stiff for a while,” the orthopedist said, wrapping up the process. “But it should heal fine with time. About six weeks.”
Ruth exhaled deeply, her body sagging against the bed. She turned to Noah, her eyes glassy but grateful. “Thank you for staying.”
Noah brushed a stray tear from her cheek. “Where else would I be?”
After filling her prescription for pain medication at the hospital pharmacy, they walked out into the cold night, her arm carefully supported in its cast and sling.