Chapter Twenty
Ω Blakely Ω
“Everything is going to be fine, butterfly. I’ve got you. I just need to make sure you’re okay,” Bronx tells me with a handsome smile across his face.
I hate that my first thought is he must flash that smile at the girls to get them to do what he wants. I want to ask him, but I don’t want to start an argument.
My hand still hurts from it getting shut in the door. I sat in the parking lot for a good ten minutes making sure my dad knew that I was, in fact, okay.
“How long ago did this happen?” Bronx asks before sitting in front of me. “How long did it stay trapped in the door?”
“Like twenty minutes ago. It just kind of slammed it. It didn’t stay shut in the door.” I know he has to ask these questions to assess what happens.
“It’s your left hand, and your right hand is your dominant hand, so that’s a plus. Can I look at your hand, Blake?” Bronx asks, holding out his hands to me.
I really don’t want to let him. He’s going to touch on it, and it’s going to hurt.
“No.” I shake my head.
He can’t touch my hand if I don’t give consent. Being a paramedic and all.
“I just want to inspect it. That’s all. You could’ve dislocated it or fractured it.” Bronx stares deep into my eyes. “I need to make sure you don’t have to go to the hospital for an x-ray.”
“It’s not broken.” I don’t know that, but I really hope it isn’t.
“You don’t know that, Blakely. I can tell you can’t.
You’re not a paramedic or an EMT. Let me help you.
Please, butterfly?” His voice drops to a whisper.
His voice is deep and gravely. I’m obsessed with it.
I reluctantly place my left hand in his.
“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” He speaks softly to me.
It’s almost like he’s scared he’s going to push me too far and I’m going to cry to my dad.
“What do you feel in your hand?” Bronx asks, gently moving my hand around to look at it.
“Any numbness? Tingling? Pins and needles in your fingers?”
I shake my head. “It hurt really bad when it originally happened. It just feels a little sore now,” I explain to him.
I’m sure it’s going to be bruised and hurt a lot more tomorrow. Bronx presses on my fingertips and watches the blood rush back to it. “Good. Now. You’re going to hate this, but I need you to wiggle your fingers or bend them, okay?” Bronx tells me.
“No.” I shake my head. Not ready for that one. I don’t want that to happen.
“I’ll be right here, okay?” Bronx takes my right hand. “Squeeze my hand as hard as you can if it hurts too bad, okay?”
I pout. “What do I get out of this?” Nothing. I get nothing. Pain. That’s what I’ll get.
Bronx grins. “Well, I can’t answer that out loud. What if your dad walks in, princess?” he teases me.
Ew. Princess. “Oh my gosh, never call me that again.” I gag dramatically. “My dad calls me that. You’re gross.”
Bronx chuckles. “I know. I needed to calm you down. Now, your fingers. Wiggle or bend them. I need to make sure the movement is good.”
I groan and slowly wiggle the fingers on my left hand. A little pain shoots through the top of my hand but nothing major. “There’s some discomfort in my hand, but nothing awful.”
“Good. Nothing is broken. You probably just jammed it. I’d give your hand a few days of a break, just to rest, and you should be fine.
If you start experiencing more pain, you should go see your doctor.
” Bronx starts to gently feel along my fingers, then moves to my knuckles, and moves down to the palm and wrist.
“Nothing feels dislocated.” Bronx isn’t even looking at me, he’s just paying attention to my hand.
“Here you are,” my dad’s voice breaks through the silence. “Are you okay? Why is Miller checking your hand out?” My dad climbs into the back of the ambulance.
“He wanted to check my hand out from where it hit the door.” I give my dad a reassuring smile. “Nothing is broken. Just jammed, I guess. He said I should rest it for a few days, and I should feel better.”
My dad looks at Bronx. Bronx just smirks up at him. “Just doing my job, sir. She came up cradling her hand and told me about what happened. I wanted to make sure she didn’t need to be transported to the hospital.”
“I would’ve taken her to the hospital, not you.” My dad really gets irritated around him.
“But!” I interject into their conversation. “But I don’t need to go to the hospital. I just need to rest and go home. Right?”
“Right.” Both Bronx and my dad speak at the same time.
“Good, so I’m going to go there right now so I’m not out during the storm.” I get up off the gurney and hop out of the ambulance.
“Medic 12, stand by.” Bronx’s radio chirps out.
“That’s my cue!” I wave to Bronx and give my dad a quick hug goodbye. “Don’t start a fight with him, please?”
My dad chuckles. “I’m his boss. I can do whatever I want,” he teases. “Let me know when you get home safely.”
“I always do. I love you.” I head out to where I parked my car so they can leave.