4. Ava
Chapter Four
Ava
When Reality Strikes
“I think I broke my ankle,” I announced.
“That’s what I heard,” Holly said briskly. “Let’s get you into the X-ray room.” She reached for the handles on my wheelchair before pausing to glance up at Tanner. “I heard you carried her down.”
“He did,” I confirmed. I pressed a palm dramatically to my chest. “It was very romantic.”
Tanner chuckled, and Holly threw her head back, letting out a peal of laughter. “I like you, Ava,” Holly said as she looked down at me.
“I barely know you, but you seem nice. You’ve got good bedside manner. Or rather, wheelchair-side manner.” I glanced up at Tanner. “So what do you do now?”
“I go back to the station,” he said. “Write up my report.”
The idea of him leaving made my chest tighten unexpectedly. He’d become my person at this moment. I felt close to him in a way that made no sense.
“Don’t worry,” Holly said, as if sensing my distress. “I’ll give Tanner an update.”
I nodded and looked up at him again. “Thank you. I really mean that.”
His lips kicked up at one corner. “You’re welcome. Holly will give me an update, and I’m sure I’ll see you around town.”
I opened my mouth to say something else, but my throat tightened instead. He dipped his chin in acknowledgment, gave a small wave, and walked away. I tracked every step until the sliding doors opened and closed behind him.
“Not a bad view,” Holly said dryly.
My cheeks burned as I looked up at her. “Definitely not. Just a view, though.”
“Sure,” she said, laughing softly, before she turned all business. “Okay. Let’s get some pictures of that ankle.”
Hours later, I really had no clue what was happening. Time had turned into a blurry, stretchy thing. I stared up at the orthopedic surgeon as he calmly explained that I needed surgery, pins, and elevated traction for—
“A whole week?” I yelped. “It’s just an ankle break.” I glared down at my ankle. “You asshole.” I looked back up at the doctor and quickly added, “Not you. You’re fine. It’s my ankle that’s the asshole.”
He nodded thoughtfully before launching into an explanation of weight-bearing mechanics and bones and how the two bones I’d broken made recovery more complicated.
I tried to listen, I really did, but my brain was spiraling.
I was in Alaska. My friends had to fly back for work soon.
Did that mean I was stuck here? Alone? Forever?
I forced my mind back to what he was saying. “You’ll be here in the hospital until you can come out of traction.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” That was all I could say.
“I can offer prayer support if that would help,” he said dryly.
I burst out laughing. “Okay,” I said, gathering myself. “I need a moment to adjust to this information. So when do we do the surgery?”
“Well, I’m only in Willow Brook two days a week,” he said. “Today is one of them. Otherwise, you’d have to go to Anchorage.”
“I would?” He nodded. “So what does that mean?”
“That means we do the surgery today.”
I swallowed. “Okay. When will I come out of surgery?”
He glanced at the clock. “About an hour. Two at most. You broke the skin,” he pointed out, “so I’ll need to do some cleaning.”
“Cleaning,” I repeated faintly.
“It’s okay,” he said, his tone calm. “You’re going to be fine.” He sounded far more confident than I felt.
“Okay.” I nodded. “I can do this.”
He added, “If you don’t do this, you might have trouble walking for the rest of your life.”
“Well,” I said, “I guess that decides it.”
He chuckled. “I hope so.”
The last thing I remembered was Holly holding my gaze, promising she would call my friends and make sure they were there when I woke up.