Page 97 of Finding Our Reality

Wrong time to joke.

He rakes his hand across his stubble. “Do I look amused, Lulu? Shit, I’m covered in your blood.”

I study the blood covering his shirt and pants and then look down at my own clothes. I knew the arm could bleed a lot, but it’s different seeing it in person. I make a mental note to learn more about blood evidence. Some new studies came out recently, and I should really familiarize myself with them.

“What’s that look for? What are you thinking about?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.” I smile, changing subjects. “Hey, look at the bright side. We’re across the Alabama state line, so I don’t have any out-of-state insurance co-pays to worry about.”

Again, he’s not amused.

It’s true, I did bump my head on the sidewalk when I fell, but it wasn’t bad at all. What did hurt was the fact that I fell onto the busted glass from the Slayton’s Southern Blackberry Tea bottle. A large piece of jagged glass sliced my right forearm. That and a scrape on my ankle are my only injuries. More importantly, the little boy is safe and sound.

The hospital has already stitched my wound. The numbing shot and tetanus shot were not pleasant at all. We’re just waiting on the nurse to finish dressing my wound and give me the after-care instructions. And of course, they need to finish my paperwork. They were more concerned with the blood gushing from my arm when I got here than with my Social Security number and employer address.

My arm is propped on a pillow, and I count the nine small stitches. I was really lucky in the fact that a plastic surgeon was working in the hospital tonight. The emergency department doctor called him to do the sutures. My scar should be minimal.

Ry sighs and walks over to the side of the hospital bed. His fingers tenderly graze over mine. He’s washed his hands three times already, but I can still see my blood caked in the corners of his cuticles. “Can you feel that? Is the numbing shot starting to wear off?”

“I feel everything you do,” I whisper.

His eyes dart to mine. That color will captivate me forever. Translucent and green. The eyes I loved to hate every single day for nearly twelve years. The eyes I now want to love. Every. Single. Day. “Tell me something. Something no one else knows.”

He lovingly tucks my hair behind my ear. “I’m so damn proud of what you did today. Saving that kid. You were amazing. I’m also so damn mad at you. What if that van hadn’t stopped when it did? What if…” His voice trails off. He can’t finish his thought. Instead, he leans down and kisses me. Softly and slowly, he pours devotion from his body into mine.

“Ahem.”

Ry quickly pulls away when the nurse makes her presence known. Smirking, he winks at me and heads back over to stand against the wall. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Nurse Dorothy chuckles. “Never say you’re sorry for kissing the one you love. That’s good advice to heed. My forty-third wedding anniversary is tomorrow.” Something about her completely puts me at ease. She reminds me of Harlan.

“Happy anniversary.”

She smiles, patting me on the good arm. “Thanks, hon. What do you say we get this wound dressed, finish this paperwork, and get you lovebirds on the way?”

She runs through everything with us. I have to change the dressing daily, wrap my arm in cellophane and tape to shower, watch for infections, and go somewhere local in fourteen days to get the stiches removed. She tells me the doctor will give me a prescription for pain pills to take as needed, but I politely decline, telling her that addiction runs in my family, and I would prefer to make do with over-the-counter medicine.

“Alright, hon, now time for the fun part. We have to finish this paperwork.” She grabs her electronic tablet and starts typing. She looks over at Ry and then back at me. “Would you like some privacy for this?”

Ry takes a protective step in my direction. “Over my dead body. I’m not leaving her. Ever.”

I snort on a chuckle. “It’s fine. He can stay.”

Dorothy leans forward, pretending to whisper-shout, and jerks her thumb in Ry’s direction. “Is the handsome officer always so serious?”

I scrunch my nose, playing along. “He’s been known to cut loose. Once or twice, that is. He has a thing for the ladies.”

“Lulu!”

By now me and Dorothy are laughing like crazy. Ry opens his mouth to say something, but instead pouts, folding his arms across his broad chest.

We settle down and she runs through all my personal data—name, Social, address, date of birth, and so on and so on. She lifts an eyebrow when I say I’m unmarried and makes a tsking sound in Ry’s direction. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. We go through the medical history of my immediate family. Cancer, diabetes, high blood pressure, etc.

And then we get to the questions I hate.

The questions I always forget about.

The questions I block from my memory on purpose.

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