CHAPTER SIX
It’s amazing how quickly bad things descend on us.
We can be minding our own business, coming in from a walk through the park after a crummy date and actually feeling pretty decent in spite of that. We can be feeling happy about getting a few minutes of sunshine rather than being stuck inside in front of a computer.
And then—bam!—something happens, and everything gets thrown out of whack.
In this particular instance, my something comes in the form of an overeager dog whose owner drops the leash within moments of my footsteps sounding on the stairs. All of a sudden, there’s a golden retriever barreling toward me.
“Phoebe!” I gasp in surprise, jumping to the side so she can get past without knocking us both down the stairs.
But she wants me. She doesn’t want to get away from Matt. She just wants to say hello.
And she won’t take no for an answer.
By the time Matt reaches the top of the stairs, calling out for the dog, she’s managed to wrap her leash around my right ankle while she paws at me with her front legs, trying to lick my cheek.
“Phoebe, down!” he commands.
She obeys.
But sadly, she pulls on the leash when she does. The one around my ankle. And before I know it, I’m tripping down four stairs while trying not to squash her on the way down.
“Son of a biscuit!” I cry out when my ankle twists and pain shoots up my leg. Tears immediately spring to my eyes and land on my cheeks, which Phoebe is all too happy to lick away.
“No, no. Oh God, I’m sorry.” Matt’s by my side in an instant, crouching on the landing. “What happened? What hurts?”
“My ankle,” I groan. When he reaches for it, I slap his arm away. “No! Don’t touch!”
“I have to get the leash from around it,” he insists, swatting my hand back. “Relax. Breathe slowly. Getting upset is only going to make it feel worse.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” I mutter before a fresh bolt of pain shoots up my leg at his touch.
“Leave it to you to be snarky, even now,” he sighs, unwinding the leash. He’s being very gentle at least. “I’m so sorry this happened. First, I dropped my keys on the floor. Then, I dropped the leash when I was going for the keys.”
“And you made fun of me for dropping my wallet last weekend,” I remind him through clenched teeth. Already, my right ankle looks bigger than my left. Just my stinking luck.
He shakes his head, scowling. “You need to go to the hospital and get this checked out.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do. It could be broken.”
“I doubt it. I broke my wrist before. It hurt way more than this, and I heard something break. I didn’t hear a break this time.”
Though frankly, who could have heard anything with Phoebe’s heavy, excited breathing?
She takes another lick of my cheek, and I can’t help but melt a little when I look into those innocent brown eyes. “It’s okay, honey,” I whisper, scratching her behind the ears.
“No, it’s not okay. Bad girl.” Matt takes the leash, standing. “She needs to go, which is why I was taking her out. But once we’re back, I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“You’re not.” Only I can’t stand or put any weight on my right foot without sheer agony exploding through my ankle.
“I am. Just sit here. Stay put. I mean it.” He deposits me on the second step before thinking twice. “No. You should keep it elevated.” He then turns me to the side, so my legs are stretched out along the stair’s length, and he puts my right foot on the next step up. “Don’t move.”
“I won’t,” I groan before he goes running downstairs with Phoebe’s leash firmly in hand.
He looks pretty shaken up. I wonder if he’s afraid I’ll sue or something. I’d never do anything like that. Not even if I was really, truly mad at him. It’s nobody’s fault.
These things tend to happen to me all the time.
He’s back in record time. “Sorry that took so long,” he gasps, and I notice he’s flushed and sweating like the two of them ran out to the park and back.
“It didn’t take long,” I point out. “I think you set a record.”
“Do you need me to grab anything from your apartment before we go?”
“You’re going to make me get this looked at, aren’t you?” I huff. Like I had nothing better to do today. “I’d be more than happy to spend the day on the couch with ice on my ankle.”
He scrubs a hand over his hair, mussing it. If I wasn’t in so much pain, his attitude might actually be endearing.
“Yeah, and I’d spend the whole day worrying whether you were seriously hurt. And what happens if you need something? Knowing you, you’d get up and try to get it for yourself.”
“What else am I supposed to do? Rot and die in the same place because I twisted my ankle?”
He glares at me in response, and my heart softens just a little.
“I have my wallet and phone in my purse, of course. A girl can’t go out without ID, just in case.”
“For once, you show good sense.” Oof, not the time to go insulting me, but he’s already stepping over me and guiding the dog to do the same. “I’ll be right back.”
Funny, if this were any other situation and he were any other man, I wouldn’t mind climbing on his back and letting him carry me down the stairs. I might even enjoy wrapping my arms around his shoulders, might get a little shiver from his hands gripping my thighs.
But he’s my annoying neighbor and I’m me, and my ankle is screaming at me, so the whole thing strikes me as ridiculous and embarrassing.
Once he gets Phoebe safely in his apartment, he barrels back down the stairs, picks me up, and carries me outside.
And it’s not as romantic as I imagined. More utilitarian.
And embarrassing.
“You can put me down,” I hiss in his ear as he’s looking around for a cab.
“And have you hop around on the other foot and probably twist that ankle, too, knowing you?” he asks, hailing an approaching car. “Ow! Don’t kick me.”
“Don’t be a jerk then,” I retort.
We’re still bickering when we reach the ER, which is chock-full of people looking for help. One glance at us, with me on Matt’s back and struggling not to cry from the pain, gets me into triage in no time. Before I know it, we’re in a curtained-off alcove, waiting to be seen.
“Your name?” a nurse asks when she sweeps into the alcove, looking at the ankle Matt insisted I prop up on a pillow he had taken from a cabinet next to my bed.
“Kathryn Valentine.”
She nods like I got the question right. Of course I did. It’s my name.
“And you fell?”
“Yeah, down the stairs in my apartment building.”
She nods again, looking over what I guess is the information I’ve already provided. “And you’re the boyfriend?” the nurse asks with a sudden sharpness in her voice, glancing up at Matt from her clipboard.
Oh. Is that why they took me in so quickly? Because they think this is a much deeper issue?
We exchange a look of horror.
“Oh, no, no,” we both stammer, shaking our heads. “No, we’re not together like that.”
“I’m her neighbor,” he explains.
“He made me fall, but he’s not my boyfriend,” I add, my voice almost overlapping with his.
“You made her fall?” the nurse asks—no, she demands an answer.
“No!” His eyes go wide.
I finally get what it means to look like a deer in headlights because he definitely has that whole terrified thing going on.
“His dog did it. I’m sorry. I should’ve been clear,” I explain.
My cheeks are red hot, and it’s no wonder.
“He didn’t have a grip on the dog’s leash, and when she heard me coming up the stairs, she got excited and came running.
I got tangled up in the leash and fell down a few stairs. That’s what happened.”
“I didn’t lay a hand on her,” he adds.
“He didn’t,” I insist, giving him a look that I hope sums up how sorry I am for making it look like he was the one at fault. “It was his big idea for me to come in. I didn’t want to, but he made me.”
She’s clearly not convinced. “Okay …” Her eyes move from Matt to mine, locking in with an intense stare.
“Trust me. We’re not dating. We’re barely even friends.” I shrug. Matt lets out a little snicker but doesn’t say anything. “We only live across the hall from each other, is what I’m saying. He didn’t do anything to cause this.”
“All right,” she sighs. “The doctor will be in shortly to see you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper before gulping, looking at Matt.
He’s pretty much turned into a statue. A statue with a very angry scowl.
“You made it sound like this was some sort of domestic thing,” he mutters when we’re alone.
“I know! My mouth got away from me.”
“That wouldn’t be the first time,” he growls. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. Did it ever occur to you that a man bringing a woman in with an injury might set off red flags?”
“No!”
“Yeah, well, now, you know how things work.” He runs his hands through his hair, and the sight of how they tremble is what makes me feel about two inches tall. He was truly scared for a minute.
“I’m really sorry,” I whisper. There’s pressure behind my eyes as tears well up. “I really am. I would never let you take the fall like that.”
“I know,” he sighs. “It was a mix-up. No big deal. It’s just that I feel bad enough about having to bring you here at all, and all of a sudden, I’m defending myself to a nurse. I guess Phoebe’s not as well-trained as I thought she was.”
“Maybe I have an effect on her.” I shrug with a tiny, tentative smile. So long as he’s not completely furious. “You could teach me a few words to use when I see her that might calm her down. Whatever it is you say to get her to listen.”
“Hmm. Not a bad idea,” he admits.
“But I don’t hold it against you,” I make sure to say. “I don’t. It’s not your fault. These things happen. To me, most of the time,” I add with a smirk.
“You do have a habit of hurting yourself, don’t you?” He arches an eyebrow. “Maybe I need to take out a special insurance policy to protect myself, living across the hall from a walking disaster.”
“Okay, hang on a sec. I wouldn’t go quite that far.”
“When’s your birthday? Maybe I’ll get you a bubble to live in.”
“Shut up.”
“How much do you think it would cost to line the walls and floors with bubble wrap?”