Page 43 of Lucky's Trouble

“I hit the back of my head pretty hard, but it’s like this thing.” I point to the monstrosity on my forehead. “Just a lump.”

“Hmm.” He pulls a penlight out of his pocket. “Look straight ahead.” He moves the light from the outer area of my vision inward a few times. “Any headaches or balance problems?”

“I had a headache all day yesterday, but it’s gone now.”

“Lucky should’ve called me in yesterday; you should’ve been on a concussion protocol. But it’s too late for that now.” His eyes dip to my throat. “What about that?”

I tug down my collar. “I think it’s okay.”

“Your voice always hoarse like it is now?”

“No.”

“Any problems swallowing?”

“No.”

“Probably strained your vocals chords some,” he says to me and then mutters to himself, “Asshole doesn’t even know how to choke someone properly.”

Biker Jesus has a dark side.

He opens up the canvas backpack I hadn’t noticed until now, producing a jar of something yellow. “This is a homemade arnica salve. I recommend putting this on your bruises. It’ll bring down the swelling and help with the pain some.”

“Homemade salve,” I repeat.

“Yeah, I make big batches of it every couple of months.” He hooks a thumb toward the main house. “Those assholes are always hurting themselves.” He digs back in the bag and produces a baggie with what appears to be homemade cigarettes. “And I recommend smoking a fatty if the pain is bothering you. This is a new sativa strain I’m carrying over at the shop, but this shit’ll knock you out, so don’t smoke unless you’re ready for a nap or right before bed.”

“Thanks,” I draw out, taking the baggy.

“Doctors prescribe too much medication these days when good ol’ Mother Nature gave us everything we need. Don’t you think?”

“I never thought about it before. Actually, I haven’t been to the doctor in a long time.”

“When was the last time?”

I look down, suddenly becoming fascinated with the Oriental rug under my feet. “I was thirteen.”

“Routine visit?”

“It was actually a gynecological exam.”

“Everything normal?”

My cheeks heat, and I wonder how much I can tell him without it getting back to Lucky. He knows enough of my dark secrets; I don’t need him to know this one.

“Just because this isn’t a traditional exam doesn’t mean I’m not bound by HIPAA. Whatever you tell me won’t leave this room.”

I take a deep breath. “I was being molested from age twelve to thirteen. When my mom found out, she took me to the doctor. I think everything was fine, though I don’t know for sure because no one spoke to me about it.”

“I’m real sorry that happened to you.” He zips up his backpack. “How about this? We have a female doctor who works over at the ranch. Why don’t I give her a call and set you up with an appointment? If you haven’t been since thirteen, it’s probably time anyway, especially given the circumstances.”

Lucky must’ve told him what happened with Neal, and I appreciate his discretion in not mentioning it. This has been humiliating enough without talking about the many times Neal took liberties with my body.

“You’re probably right.”

“Can I help you with anything else, young lady?”

“Young lady? You can’t be much older than me.”

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