Down and Dirty
SLADE
The resort coordinates the helicopter. Within forty minutes we hear the rotors above the tree line.
The rest moves fast. The resort employees have our belongings packed up and already loaded in the helicopter.
The medic who rides with us wraps Lila’s ankle, asks her questions she answers calmly, takes her blood pressure.
Lila sits with her leg elevated and watches the mountains drop away below us through the window.
I watch her watch the mountains until we land at the Marble Falls Regional Hospital’s helicopter pad.
The emergency room is small and thankfully quiet today. A nurse meets us at the door with a wheelchair and takes Lila back the second I’m done filling out the paperwork
Name. Date of birth. Insurance. Emergency contact.
I write my name there without thinking twice about it.
The nurse comes back for the clipboard and glances over it. “And your relationship to the patient?” she asks.
“I’m her husband,” I say.
The nurse nods and takes the clipboard. “Wait here. We’ll come and get you when she’s done with x-rays.”
“Can’t I come?” I protest.
“You can meet your wife afterwards,” she says firmly.
I lean down and kiss Lila’s forehead because she’s sitting in a hospital wheelchair looking small and brave, and they won’t let me carry her back there myself, so this is all I can manage.
“I’ll be waiting.”
She looks up at me with those beautiful brown eyes and smiles. “I know.”
I sit back in the uncomfortable, way-too-small vinyl chair and look at my wedding ring.
I’m her husband.
The weight of those words begins to settle in my chest in a major way. Fake marriage or not, this is a real crisis situation, and in the eyes of the law I’m her husband in truth.
That’s some heavy shit.
But it doesn’t make me feel panicked, like I thought I would. Stepping up and taking responsibility… it feels good.
The waiting room is quiet. A man across from me is reading a magazine. A child is asleep across two chairs with her head in her mother’s lap. The television in the corner has the weather forecast on mute.
I pull out my phone and sigh heavily. This part is not going to be fun.
And then I get on the group chat to let everyone know that Lila and I had to cut our honeymoon short under distinctly inauspicious circumstances.
I give my family the Cliff’s Notes version, typing out a dry recollection of everything that happened today. Probably a sprain, I conclude, finishing my brief and unfortunate summation of events.
Two minutes later:
Walker
Are you serious right now? You broke your wife on day 2 of your honeymoon? Lila, when you read this, I’m sorry.
Tanner
Bro you’re so much worse at this husband thing than I could have imagined. And I already knew you’d be bad at it. Lila, you should look into a training camp for husbands. Slade is good at training camps. Might even come back fully housebroken!
In a way, it’s actually comforting to get shit from my brothers. Hearing the worst things I’ve thought about myself said aloud by someone who loves me is weirdly liberating.
I text:
Slade
Both of you can fuck all the way off.
Dad
Go easy on him, boys. It’s hard work learning to be a good husband.
Walker
Not for me. I’m a natural.
Sadie
Love your confidence, babe. So humble too. Lila, sweetie, we’ll come over with some meals for you two. And of course we can keep Lucky with us as long as you need.
Sadie
And Slade, you can still make it up to her. Nothing sweeter than a man who knows how to earn his way back into his wife’s good graces.
I don’t want to know what Walker’s done to make her say that. Or how exactly he’s earned his way back into his wife’s good graces.
Some things you do not need to know about your siblings.
The nurse appears in the doorway. “Mr. Rhodes? You can come back now.”
I follow the nurse into the exam room.
Lila is on the exam table with her wrapped ankle elevated, still in her hiking clothes, her hair damp from the sleet.
She looks up when I come in and her whole face changes.
It’s that relief of seeing the familiar face you were waiting for finally by your side.
I feel my own face doing the same thing and don’t try to stop it.
When I come to her bedside, I gently stroke a few strands of hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now that you’re here.”
Something stirs in my chest at that, something possessive and warm and a little frightening in its intensity.
She means it simply. Of course she feels better: I’m her husband, I’m the familiar face, it’s just relief. I know that’s what she means.
It’s just that I’ve never been that person for anyone before.
The one who makes them feel better just by walking through the door.
I’ve spent my whole life being the one who shows up and does the work and then steps back so someone else can take the credit.
The middle child. The defenseman. The one who doesn’t need much.
Nobody has ever looked at me the way she just did and meant: you. Specifically you. That’s who I was waiting for.
I brush my thumb across her cheek and keep my hand there.
“It’s a sprain,” she says, leaning into my touch. “You were right.”
“You did good today,” I tell her. “You’re fucking tough, you know that?”
“Yeah, right,” she blushes.
“You are. I’ve sprained both ankles at least twice and that shit hurts.”
“Bet you played through it, didn’t you?”
“Sweetheart, I’ve played on a broken ankle. But I’m stupid.”
She laughs at that. Beneath the fluorescent lights, she looks so vulnerable and delicate and I just want to wrap her up safe and take her home.
“You warm enough?” I ask.
“Getting there.”
I take her chilly hands in both of mine. I rub them slowly between my palms while she looks at me thoughtfully.
Now that I know she’s okay, that it’s just a sprain and will likely heal nicely and pretty quickly, my mind is at ease.
As I hold her hands in mine, I realize something suddenly: I didn’t like her getting hurt, obviously, but I did like being the one she trusted to carry her through the storm. I liked being the one she reached for.
And I really like this: her hands in mine, her eyes on me, the flush on her cheeks as she gazes at me. It’s a trusting look, like she knows I’ll take care of her.
I want to be worthy of that trust.
“When we get home,” I tell her, “we’ll get your feet up on the sofa. Lucky will want to put her head on your lap. I’ll cover you with that fuzzy blanket you bought. You’ll be toasty as hell.”
She smiles. “Aren’t you glad I started buying you furniture and accessories and filling the house with soft cozy things?”
“Very,” I answer.
“Bet you didn’t think we’d get to ‘in sickness’ part of the vows so fast.”
“I guess we’re doing a speed run through it,” I say. “You got a little too close to the ‘death do us part’ for comfort today. Let’s take our time with all the others, yeah?”
She just looks at me like she’s waiting for me to realize what I just said—all the other wedding vows we’d be taking our time with.
To have and to hold. To love and to cherish.
Things I can’t give her.
But even if I can’t have her, at least I’m holding her right now.
“What do you want for dinner?” I ask. “I’ll cook.”
She blinks. “You cook?”
“I make a decent chili,” I say. “And cornbread. Mom’s recipe.”
Her expression softens. “That sounds really good actually.”
“Then that’s what we’re having.” I’m still rubbing her hands. She’s warming up. I add, “And you’re not moving from that couch until I say so.”
“Very bossy,” she says, still smiling softly.
“You’re fun to boss around,” I murmur, my thumb skimming across her knuckles.
The look in her eyes turns even warmer. “Is that so?”
“Mm. I like knowing what you need. I like being the one who can give it to you.”
There’s a slight hitch in her breath. “And what do I need, Slade?”
“To stop being in charge for a little while. To let someone else take care of you.” I bring her fingertips to my mouth to blow hot on them, my lips brushing her knuckles.
“Never tried that before,” she says, gaze dipping to my lips. “Might be a little out of my comfort zone.”
“Good. That’s where the interesting stuff happens.”
Those honey-brown eyes hold mine. Her hands are still in mine and I can feel her pulse beneath my fingertips, faster than it was a minute ago.
My gaze lingers on her pink lips.
Would it really be so bad to kiss her? It would just be for comfort. Just a way to say I’m here, I care about you, I’ll take care of you.
I lean in, willing to test that notion, when there’s a knock at the door.
The doctor comes in. He’s young and efficient and in a matter of minutes confirms the sprain and gives us instructions for the next two weeks: ice, keep the leg elevated, keep a splint on it. No hiking, no strenuous activity.
No kissing, I imagine, or any of the other strenuous activities that might come with it.
By the time Lila’s discharged, it’s getting dark out. When we get to my truck, I put her seat heater on and have the heater blowing around her and not at her, the way I know she likes.
Despite the events of the day, she seems in good spirits as I drive us along the dark mountain roads back home.
“It’s too bad our honeymoon got cut short,” she says. “I was looking forward to all the activities. ATV rides and cutting a herd on horseback and all the stuff I never thought in a million years I’d ever get to do.”
My ears perk up. “You actually want to do that stuff?”
“Sure. Does that surprise you?”
“I mean, kinda. You’re so girly and fancy and…”
She laughs, but she doesn’t look insulted, so I feel brave enough to continue, “I just didn’t think you’d be interested in that kind of thing. But we can do all of that at Wild Rose. And more. As soon as your ankle is healed, it’s game on.”
Her eyes brighten. “Really?”
“Hell yeah. You want to get down and dirty with a cowboy?”
She bites her lip, grinning. “Only if the cowboy in question is my husband.”
I might have fucked up our honeymoon, but I think I know how I can make it up to my wife. “All right. I got an idea. We need to make this marriage look real to your family, right?”
“Right…” she says slowly.
“And maybe it would be fun to make them clutch their pearls at the same time?”
She tilts her head. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
“We’re gonna do some real country-ass shit.” At her grin, my own smile widens too. “And we’re gonna take plenty of photos and video of it. For posterity’s sake. I’m gonna teach you how to cut a herd. How to lasso and shoot and ride an ATV and so much more.”
“Yes,” she says, laughing. “Yes to all of it.”
I look at her, warmth moving through me. “You might be coming into this marriage like my little Yankee princess, but mark my words. In a year, you’ll be sprawled out on our porch, chewing tobacco and holding a sawed-off shotgun in one hand, with a cup of homemade moonshine in the other.”
A bright peal of laughter. “Stop! I would never chew tobacco.” She buries her face in her hands. “Oh my God. My family is going to have conniptions.”
I nod, satisfied. “It’s settled, Mrs. Rhodes. I’m making you my country queen.”