Page 88 of Bae

The doctor came in the room, wearing green scrubs and a lab coat, a stethoscope hanging around his neck. The nurse hovered in the doorway, unsure if she should come in.

“Mr. Anderson?” he said, staring at me in the bed.

“Yes.” I dared him to tell me to move.

He didn’t.

“I’m Dr. Westfall.” He gave me his hand. I released Rim long enough to shake it.

“Tell me what’s wrong with my wife.”

She pulled the oxygen off her face again. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just shaken up.”

The doctor glanced at Braeden. I made a rude sound. “He’s her brother.”

Dr. Westfall nodded brusquely. “Your wife was involved in a car crash this evening. Her vehicle ran off the road and hit a cement light post.”

My body went rigid under hers. Braeden jerked up in his seat. “How the hell did that happen?” I demanded.

The doctor cleared his throat. “The airbags deployed. Rimmel was hit in the face and chest. Even though the impact was heavy, she sustained minor injuries, including bruising from the seatbelt, a sore chest from the airbag, a bloody nose, and some superficial cuts and scratches to her face from her glasses shattering.”

Her glasses shattered against her face.“A bloody nose…” I murmured. The mental image of Rim with blood on her wasn’t something I ever wanted.

“As I already discussed with her, she may have a rash tomorrow from the airbag hitting her face, and a slight cough is a common occurrence for the next day or so, as a lot of dust is usually inhaled when an airbag deploys.”

“Is that why she’s on oxygen?” Braeden asked.

I wanted to know, too, but I was still trying to get past the fact she was in her car when it slammed into a fucking cement pole. Thank God I made her get a Range Rover. If she’d been in something smaller, less safe, this could have been so much worse.

Maybe for her next car, I’d just buy a damn tank.

“No, that was because she had a severe panic attack when she first arrived,” the doctor replied.

Rimmel glanced down. I noted the way her head tilted as if she were embarrassed.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whispered, hugging her close. Her hand slid around my forearm and gripped. What the fuck happened that caused her to have a panic attack? The accident? Or was it something more?

“The oxygen will help open up her lungs, though, so it might prevent a cough,” the doctor said. “I can’t say for sure.”

“Did you hit your head?” I asked, reaching up to gently probe her scalp.

“No, I didn’t.”

“No concussion, and I see no reason for her to stay overnight.” He glanced at Rimmel. “Are you feeling better? Do you feel like you need to stay?”

“I’m better now. I’d like to go home.”

“If you start feeling worse or have a terrible headache, anything like we discussed, come back to the ER immediately.”

“I will.”

“Okay, well, if there are no other questions, I’ll have the nurse bring in your discharge papers.”

I held my hand out to the doctor. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he returned, then took his leave.

“Your driving has officially hit a new low, tutor girl. You’re supposed to stay on the road,” Braeden cracked when the doctor was gone.

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