Page 35 of The Perfect Putt

I’m almost too lost in my own thoughts to notice Ellie starting to fall. I catch her right before she goes down, dropping my water bottle in the process. A pained gasp escapes her.

“Are you okay? What happened? What’s hurt?” My questions tumble out in a panic. I pull her body up some and she leans on me, not putting weight on her right foot.

“I think I twisted my ankle. There was a hole I didn’t see,” she says and I can hear the pain in her voice. I look down and see a pile of sand next to a hole, as if someone intended on making a sandcastle but stopped mid-way.

I immediately pick her up bridal style.

“We’ll have Sutton look at your ankle, okay?” I walk her over to the group, but Sutton must have seen the fall because she meets us halfway.

“What happened?” she asks, worry threading her brows together.

“It’s no big deal,” Ellie says.

I shake my head. “She twisted her ankle. I’m going to carry her up to the house, can you come look at it?”

With Sutton’s background in sports medicine, she’s tended to countless similar injuries. I trust her to take care of Ellie.

“Of course,” Sutton replies with a nod.

I trudge through the sand and up to the boardwalk, not bothering to explain to anyone what’s happened. My only focus is on getting Ellie what she needs. Ellie sucks in a breath when I step on the boardwalk. The movement must have jostled her ankle.

“You okay, Red? I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“I’m okay,” she murmurs near my ear and wraps her arms around my neck to hold on better. I try–and fail–to ignore how good it feels to have her in my arms despite the circumstances. It’s something that isn’t going to leave my memory for a long time. Because holding Ellie feels like stepping onto the beach, like home.

Chapter nineteen

Ellie Hart

Miles gently sets me down on his couch. I wince at the feeling of my ankle hitting the cushion.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a low voice near my ear. Even my throbbing ankle can’t deter the warmth that spreads through me at how close he is.

He moves his arm from under my back, then grabs a pillow and helps me get it under my foot. His fingertips graze my calf and I shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asks, concern etched into his expression. “I’ll go get you something to cover up with.” He disappears down the hall.

Sutton comes through the back door while he’s gone.

“Miles went to get me a blanket,” I explain and she nods before sitting on the cushion beside my propped foot.

“You said you twisted it? There wasn’t a popping sound or anything like that?”

“I stepped in a hole and it twisted. No popping sound.”

“Can you move it?”

I grit my teeth and move it to show her. “It hurts, but I can.”

She touches it, but gently enough that I don’t feel any pain. After a moment, she looks back up at me.

“It’s a light sprain. I think with some rest, over-the-counter pain meds, and elevation that you should be back to normal within a couple days. Oh, and it would be good to put ice on it to reduce the potential of swelling.”

“I have ice packs in my freezer. I’ll go get them in a second,” Miles says as he walks into the living room with his arms full. “Okay I brought pillows from my bed so that your back and head would be comfortable, a blanket to cover you up, a sweatshirt for you to wear, and a washcloth to wipe the sand off your legs.”

I blink at him, then look at Sutton. Her lips are pressed together like she’s trying not to laugh. Miles starts depositing his collection onto the ottoman in the organized manner I’ve come to know from him. He seems so relaxed, but all of his possessions are always in order.

“I missed the first part of what you were saying,” Miles says to Sutton as he helps me sit up. His hand on my back makes my breath catch.

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