Page 4 of Cherishing Little Charlee

“Not in a long time, but yes, I’ve had them before,” she answered.

“All right. The room is just a few doors down. Your landing pad has to stay here while we take a few films. Would you like me to help you?”

“Yes, please.” Charlee glanced at me, apprehension creasing her eyebrows.

“I’ll be right here. Tomorrow we’ll go out to that bakery you love in Porter’s Corner. Does that sound good?” I asked.

Her face brightened. “Yes, please.”

Dr. Nelson gave her his hand and helped her off the table. He gave me a thumbs up before leading Charlee out.

Watching her shuffle out of the room with the doctor brought my mind into a terrible flashback. Sweating, I jabbed my fingers into my hair trying to stifle the emotions flooding through me. I didn’t talk openly about why I hated medical places. What had Charlee said? She hated them with the passion of a thousand fireflies. I hated them with a deep burning sense of something I couldn’t name. When I brought Charlee to the bakery I might tell her why I hadn’t sought either a relationship or a submissive in years. My heart hadn’t been ready to face the emotional commitment.

Abigail Hale, a friend of mine from high school, had wanted to experience a real BDSM dynamic. A once-in-a-lifetime trip to Rawhide. Experience having a Daddy Dom of her own. All before the illness ransacking her body stole her life away. I’d agreed without hesitation, wanting to make Abigail’s last memories wonderful. And they had been. Until they weren’t.

It had been an intense two months. I’d accompanied her to places I never thought I’d go. Doctor’s visits while the staff delivered an updated prognosis. Hospice planning. It wasn’tpretty. And yet, try as I might, I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with my friend. I knew her time on earth was limited, but my heart didn’t get the message. Her positive outlook and shiny disposition brightened her darkest days and mine.

I missed her terribly. She left an ache in my heart that I wasn’t sure could be soothed. My sweet, sunshine-filled Little girl. I could still hear her laughter at the smallest things. A pretty butterfly. A funny bird. I took a deep breath and let it out. I had to be strong for Charlee. It was a wrist injury. Nothing too serious. Even a break didn’t warrant my reaction. Anxiety didn’t care.

Pull it together, Pierce.

Chiding myself did nothing but irritate me as I paced the length of the room.

Dr. Nelson poked his head into the room. “Are you all right?”

Clearing my throat, I nodded. “I’m not a big fan of medical facilities. I’ll be fine.”

“I used to dislike them. Well, years before I became a doctor. White coat anxiety is something many people face under the best of circumstances.”

“Thank you for acknowledging that. I’m good now,” I said as the pit in my stomach eased. “How’s Charlee?”

“She’s much better. Just out in the waiting room wearing a brand-new soft splint,” he said calmly.

But he seemed to read into my posture as he studied me. Giving me room to talk about the pinching anxiety that had eased but not disappeared. It was likely showing on my features.

“Good,” I said, letting out a sigh of relief. Charlee didn’t need anything sidelining her from the spring production. “No broken bones?”

“No, nothing is broken. I’m sure Charlee will tell you all about what she needs to do to take care of herself. If she was listening that is.” Dr. Nelson gave me a knowing look.

“I’ll make sure she follows your instructions. Thank you for being gentle with her.”

“Of course. Would you like a copy of the suggested plan? I don’t want to assume, but Charlee seemed really upset before. I’m happy to share the standard practice in case she didn’t hear everything I said.”

His ability to read Charlee and the knowledge that she was all right eased my mind. “Yes, Dr. Nelson. I’d really appreciate that.”

“No, problem. Sometimes the papers go wandering so we print two copies just in case,” he said as we left the exam room.

Dr. Nelson rattled off the typical regimen: rest, ice, elevation and pain medication. I thanked him again. Charlee was standing in the waiting room seeming eager to leave. She met me at the exit door, her body language much more relaxed.

“No break! Just a sprain, Pierce. Thank goodness! Isn’t the splint pretty? It’s purple. The doctor gave me a sloth sticker. Isn’t he cute? He’s holding flowers! I don’t know how I’ll be able to paint with the splint but…” She frowned.

“That’s good.” I didn’t acknowledge her sudden pause. Charlee could read me well enough to know I wasn’t in the best mood. “I’m glad it’s not too serious. Let’s get you home and in bed.”

“Why do you look upset?” She tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“Medical places bring up some intense memories for me, just a bit of anxiety.” I held out my hand. She intertwined her fingers in mine. Charlee nuzzled my shoulder as we walked out of the building. She wasn’t usually so affectionate. I hoped my presence helped ease her worries. The air around us seemed much lighter now that she was taken care of.

“Do you want to talk about the reason medical places make you anxious? I’m a good listener when I want to be,” she offered an ear.

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