Page 8 of Cherished By the Fearless Mountain Man

“Earth to Willa?”Mrs.Reed’s voice cuts through my wandering thoughts.“Where were your thoughts just now?I bet with that Brock boy, right?”

My cheeks heat as I try to deny the truth.“Mrs.Reed, I was just—”

“Oh, don’t you try to fool me, dear.I know love when I see it.You’ve been talking my ear off about one patient in particular.Brock.”She gives me a knowing smile.“Speaking of which, I saw him yesterday at the hardware store.Walking around like nothing ever happened to him.Well, except for the limp and the tortured faces he made.”

I frown.“He was at the hardware store?Walking around?Are you sure it wasn’t his brother you saw?They look kind of alike.”

“I know those boys, Willa.They’re both attractive young men, sure, but I’m not blind or senile yet.I can tell them apart.”

My stomach drops.If Mrs.Reed is right, and it was Brock, that’s not good.

“When exactly did you see him, Mrs.Reed?”

“Yesterday afternoon.I was picking up some lightbulbs and there he was, carrying a bag of screws or some such thing.”

Yesterday.Two days after I last saw him.The day after I told him his wound was healing so well.

I wrap up things with Mrs.Reed right away.Usually, I stay and talk after her blood sugar checks for her diabetes, but I need to head over to Brock’s to check on him.Don’t I?Not because I miss him, but because I need to know if he’s okay.I mean… Mrs.Reed said he was limping and making tortured faces.That doesn’t sound good.

I hastily tell her goodbye and get in my car.The drive to Brock’s cabin feels longer than usual, even though I’m probably driving faster than I should on these winding mountain roads.

After what feels like an eternity, I pull up to his cabin and grab my medical bag, my stomach churning with a mixture of professional concern and personal dread.

“It’s Willa,” I call out as I knock and open the door.

“Come in,” he calls back, but his voice sounds different.Strained.

I find him on the couch, and one look at him tells me everything I need to know.He looks guilty as hell, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and he’s sweating.

“I know we don’t have an appointment today, but I needed to see how you were doing.Mrs.Reed told me you were at the hardware store yesterday.”

His jaw tightens.“Did she now?”

“She did.”I sit down next to him, pulling on my gloves.“Want to tell me what you were doing there?”

“Just… picking up a few things.”

“Brock.”I give him my best stern nurse look.“What did you do?”

He finally meets my eyes.“I was feeling good.Really good.And I thought maybe I could start getting back to normal, you know?Just small stuff.”

“What kind of small stuff?”

“Fixing a loose board on the porch.Cleaning out the gutters.Restacking some firewood that was falling over.”He says it like he’s confessing to murder.

“Brock.”My voice comes out sharper than I intended.“You cleaned gutters?That requires climbing a ladder.”

“It was a short ladder.”

“There’s no such thing as a short ladder when you have a healing leg laceration.Come on, let me see the wound.”

He shifts uncomfortably as I carefully peel back the bandage, and what I see makes my heart sink.The wound that had been healing so beautifully two days ago now looks angry and inflamed.The edges are red and slightly pulled apart, and there’s more drainage than there should be.

“Is it bad?”He leans forward to look, and I can see the worry in his eyes now.

“It’s not good.Some of these stitches are under strain, and there’s increased inflammation.See these red streaks?That means the infection is spreading.”

His face goes pale.“Spreading where?”

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