Chapter 10
Fly out to Nebraska to say a heartfelt goodbye and what did Nate get? A whopping headache, bloody pants, and twelve stitches. He could only imagine the laugh this would’ve given his mentor. That was one thing to smile about, he supposed.
Still, last place Nate wanted to hang out any longer was some ER in who-knows-where, Nebraska.
Two hours had already been two hours too long.
Especially since it had taken a ridiculous amount of time for the paramedics or EMTs or firefighters or whatever they were to triage the situation out at the river.
It’d been like listening to them work out that old riddle about the chicken, the fox, and the corn as they decided in which order to accomplish rescuing a screaming lady on the other side of the river and transporting two patients—one of them an aggressive moose—by ambulance to the nearest ER.
Nate hadn’t wanted to get the rental vehicle wet and bloody, so even though he’d felt capable of driving to the ER himself, he rode with Oliver in the ambulance—after they’d given Oliver some sort of sedative—and let McKenna drive his rental to the ER.
He hadn’t seen any of them since, but McKenna must’ve made it to the ER okay because a nurse brought him his keys. He assumed McKenna’s sister would have to drive her back to the river at some point so she could retrieve her own vehicle.
Man, what a stupid day.
But now that his knee was stitched up—stupid river rocks—and his forehead was bandaged up—stupid Oliver—Nate was ready to leave this stupid day behind and never step foot near loopy tall Nebraska women with gorgeous turquoise eyes and wild curly hair ever again.
“So I’m good to go now?” he asked as soon as the nurse practitioner, Wendy, finished with the last butterfly bandage above his left eyebrow and scooted back on her roller chair.
Nate stood from the stretcher, ready to bolt whether she said yes or no. The airline said there was a chance they could still get him on a red-eye tonight, but in order to make that, he was going to need to hurry.
“All set,” Wendy said with a wink. She’d been doing that a lot, he noticed. Winking.
At first he thought maybe something was wrong with her contacts, but then she tugged a pair of neon-orange glasses down from her spiky blonde hair and said that she didn’t wear contacts when he asked her if there was something wrong with her contacts.
And of course, she’d winked when she said it.
“Okay. Well . . . thanks for everything.” Nate stepped to the side to get around her. Wendy stepped to the side, mirroring his movement, as she dropped her gloves in the trash.
“Be sure to keep the site clean and dry,” she said with another wink.
“Will do.” Nate leaned to his right. Wendy leaned to her right.
“And protect your skin from the sun.”
“Got it.”
“Avoid swimming.”
“Done.”
“No nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs either.”
“Absolutely.” He’d look up what that meant later. “Anything else?” Hopefully not. He didn’t know how much further he could lean without falling into the wall.
“Call your primary care doctor if you notice any signs of infection around the stitches.”
“Perfect.”
“Redness, swelling, oozing, foul odor—”
“I’ll know the signs.”
“Good.” She straightened. He straightened. But before he could slide past her, she pressed a pad of paper on his chest and started scribbling with her pen.
“If you think of any other questions, you can always call me,” she said with another wink as she tore off the top sheet of paper and held it out in the tiny space between them that was shrinking with every second.
Nate cleared his throat and took a step back, bumping into the stretcher. Why was this room so tiny and this woman so winky? Was there a full moon tonight? Or was this part of Nebraska just full of strange flirty women?
“Thanks, but I’m not actually from around here.
I live in New York. Buffalo now, so . . .
” He offered a smile that hopefully looked friendly enough that she wouldn’t pull a needle out of a random drawer and stab him, but not too friendly, so that she understood no matter how long she continued blocking his exit, he was not taking her number.
His smile must not have conveyed the appropriate message.
She inched closer.
“Buffalo, huh?” And since he still wouldn’t take the paper, she took the liberty of sliding it into his back pants pocket and giving it a little pat.
At least that’s what he assumed she was doing.
Between his legs being cold and his pants being stiff from the river water, he couldn’t really tell what was happening south of his beltline anymore.
“I work all the time,” she said with a wink.
He didn’t know what to say to that. Which was probably why he was leaning again, this time to the left since leaning to the right hadn’t been all that successful two minutes ago.
“Nice long vacation might do me good,” she said. “Buffalo sounds fun. Maybe you could show me around?”
“Oh, yeah, no. Can’t. Sorry. Not going to be anywhere near Buffalo. I’m actually headed to Tennessee.” Why did he tell her that? “A little town called Bugle.” Why did he tell her that?
“Not the type of place you want to visit though, believe me,” he rushed on. “Especially not in the summer. Humidity. Bugs. People. I’m only going because that’s where my mom still lives. Runs a bed and breakfast.” Would someone please duct tape his mouth shut before he spouted off the address?
“Oh my. Good-looking, brave, and loves his momma.”
“I wouldn’t say that. The good-looking and brave part.
I do love my momma. Mom. I don’t call her Momma.
But maybe I’ll start. Anyway—” Nate barked a laugh that sounded like he was trying to give McKenna and Oliver a run for their money in the World’s Fakest Chuckle Competition.
“I better get to the airport. Flight leaves soon.” Not soon enough.
“Don’t forget your bag.”
“Bag? Oh, right.” He’d asked for a patient belongings bag to put his wet pants into whenever he got out of here and could change. Last thing he wanted was for the letter from his mentor to get wet inside his carry-on.
For making such a rash decision to jump into the river, all in all, he couldn’t complain. Sure, the ER visit was a headache. Sure, another dotty woman was hitting on him. Sure, he’d missed his flight and might miss the next one.
But at least his favorite shirt and hat hadn’t gotten wet, and his phone and wallet were safe in his messenger bag.
Might even come out of this with a cool scar above his eyebrow that would make him look like some sort of Indiana Jones type ready for an adventure instead of a poetry nerd who just wanted to get to his momma.
“Well, uh, thanks again,” he said, reaching to take the bag from Wendy’s hands.
“I put a copy of my phone number in there, too,” she said, not releasing her grip. “Cell number. Work number. Landline. Email. Work schedule. Home address. It’s all there. Everything you could ever need.”
“Very thorough.” He waited a beat. “Really need to catch that flight.” Or get another belongings bag if she was going to continue playing tug-of-war with this one.
She finally released her hold. “Don’t be a stranger,” she called out after him. He didn’t bother turning around to see if she winked when she said it. She did. He knew she did.
But a stranger was exactly what he planned to be for the rest of the summer.
Goodbye, crazy Nebraska. Hello, quiet Tennessee.