Chapter 1 #2
I reached out a tentative hand, scowling when he jerked away as if stung. He didn’t need to act like I’d crashed on purpose, like I’d meant to hurt him.
"I'm just trying to help," I assured. "Do you think it's broken?"
He shook his head, shaggy hair flying from side to side. "No."
His gruff denial shut down my urge to argue, but something about the stubborn tilt to his lips told its own story.
If not broken, my money was on badly bruised or strained.
His refusal to admit his discomfort made me think he was putting on a brave face for me.
The stubborn man was both heroic and delusional if he thought I wouldn’t see through his protests.
Pain etched his features, clear as glass.
“Why did you try to catch me?” I asked, dismayed.
Davis’s dead-eye stare communicated clearly that he didn’t think my question deserved a response. He probably acted on instinct, sensing the panic I’d tried to hide.
He played hero and paid the price. I should be thanking him, but guilt kept me mute. I didn’t mean to bring my troubles to his doorstep. Davis barely tolerated me as it was. I didn’t want to give him more fuel to feed his dislike.
With a hiss, I pushed to my feet, limping to Bee-gonia's envelope, and started the process of straightening her lines, preparing to pack up.
"What are you doing?" Davis barked, rushing to my side.
I took a shuddering breath. Now that the immediate danger had passed, adrenaline was making me shaky. I was tempted to turn and bury myself in his arms for comfort, even if he’d more than likely push me away.
"Cleaning up my mess," I grumbled, too ashamed to look at him.
"You're injured."
"Yes, and I'm also responsible," I admitted, chagrined as I pushed through the twinges in my ankle, forcing myself to start my post-flight checks.
"Sit down." He placed a gentle hand on my wrist, his touch having an immediate impact on my nervous system. Not quite the hug I craved, but that little bit of contact still helped calm me.
"When I'm done."
"Sit. Down."
His deep bark was intended to cow me, but a quick glance at the lines of pain around his eyes cooled my desire to teacher-voice him into submission.
"Don't worry," I soothed, forcing a smile. "Gwen will be here any minute with my rig. As soon as Bee-gonia is packed up, she can drive us to the clinic and get you checked out. We'll both get fixed up sooner than you can say Crabby Patty."
"Crabby Patty," Davis grunted between clenched teeth.
I shrugged, and he released me, pacing a few feet away. "Okay, maybe not quite that fast."
My heart was slowly returning to a normal rhythm, but my stomach swirled with nausea.
I felt like hot garbage. Not just because Davis had tried to help me and gotten hurt for his troubles, but because I'd crashed Bee-gonia and likely messed up my ankle as well.
Chasing my students with an injury was going to make the next few weeks hell.
Gwen pulled up in my SUV and trailer to haul Bee-gonia, and I heaved a sigh of relief. Reinforcements, finally.
"You okay, Sophie?" Gwen called as she slipped from the driver's seat, sliding on her leather gloves.
"I'll live." I gestured to Bee-gonia's basket. "My landing was a little rough. Davis and I are both banged up. Can you help me get everything loaded, then drive us to the clinic?"
Gwen tutted. "Of course." She glanced at Davis. He clutched his arm to his chest, a pained expression pinching his features. "You don't look so good."
Davis's face grew thunderous, and my heart sank, guilt filling me.
It was my fault he'd gotten hurt. Any hopes that it wasn't that bad were fading fast. Usually, you couldn't keep Davis still.
He was always off somewhere, doing chores.
The way he'd plopped his butt down in the grass didn't bode well for my hopes that his injury was minor.
I scrambled to my side of the basket, scowling when Davis moved to grab an extra handle with his right hand, helping us maneuver the heavy burden into the trailer.
"Davis, your arm."
"My right one is fine."
His forbidding tone shut down the impulse to argue, and I focused on cramming the balloon envelope into its carry bag before we shuffled it into the trailer behind the basket, burner, and tanks.
I peppered Gwen and Davis with questions about their weekend plans on the short ride to the clinic, hoping to distract my personal thundercloud from any pain, but Davis's grunts were all I got for my efforts.
I couldn't hold back a hiss as my left foot hit the concrete outside the Campfire Clinic. Davis's frown deepened, and Gwen shook her head. "You should have told me how bad you’re hurt. I could have called Zander or someone to help us load the stuff and just taken you directly to the clinic.”
"I'm fine," I said through gritted teeth, focusing on walking the few feet to the clinic front door, one aching step at a time.
Silently, Davis moved under my left side, using his right to support me.
Even annoyed with me, the man couldn’t help but play my champion, so I could be forgiven for growing weak in the knees, overwhelmed by his strength as his big body pressed against mine.
He squeezed, a silent reassurance, and I cast him a quick look of thanks.
He didn’t need to know how much he stirred me up, just by being himself.
We hobbled into the clinic, welded together from thigh to chest. Together we almost made a fully intact human.
Shaking off the growing fear that I was going to owe Davis big-time for his assistance, we greeted Shawna at the front desk. Davis and I were ushered into separate treatment rooms.
Forty minutes later, I'd been admonished by the clinic’s nurse practitioner to take it easy and issued a prescription for ibuprofen and rest.
Gwen looked up from her phone when I returned to the lobby, brow arched.
"Minor strain," I said. "Where's Davis?"
Gwen nodded back toward the hall, and I caught Davis exiting behind me, his left arm in a sling.
Any hopes that he’d avoided real injury evaporated.
It was my fault he’d gotten hurt. Jo wouldn’t be home for days, and he’d banged himself up.
I squirmed with the need to make it right.
Davis had been there for me when I needed him.
Offering him anything less in return didn’t sit right.
He might not welcome my help, but he needed it.
"I'm so sorry, Davis. How bad is it?" I asked.
"Fine."
His clipped response wasn't exactly reassuring. I bit my lip, worrying it with my teeth as we slowly made our way back to my SUV.
"Where to, Sophie?"
I cleared my throat. "Why don't we drop you off at Sprigs, then I'll take Davis home? We're closer to your place anyway."
Gwen peered at me carefully. "If you're sure. Do you want to stay with me for a few days? The stairs at your place will be murder on that ankle."
I peeked at Davis in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed with pain. "With Jo out of town, I think I'm going to be needed elsewhere." I glanced meaningfully toward the back seat.
Gwen shook her head. "It's your funeral."