Page 29 of He Saved My Boy
She leads us down the hall and around the corner to an exam room. “Here we go. Have there been any problems since your surgery?”
I look to Connor who just shrugs. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s great. We’re going to change out your cast today. By now, the swelling has likely gone down, and your arm is likely smaller than it was right after surgery—not to mention, it might be kinda stinky.” With that, she makes a face, and Connor laughs. “You’re going to meet with Dr. Fallon, and he’ll explain how your exam will go, then I’ll take you to the casting room.”
She types a few things into the computer in the exam room and by the time she’s done, there’s a knock on the door. My spine tingles, and the energy shifts in the room. Davis’s eyes find mine instantly, and I can’t believe he’s even better looking than I remember.
When I saw him last, he was clean shaven. Now he has a few days’ growth on his handsome face, which makes his brown eyes pop. It’s not scruff, but it’s not a full beard either. I’m normally not one for facial hair, but Davis pulls it off with ease.
My eyes never leave him as he greets my son with ease. “Hey, Connor. It’s great to see you again. Has your arm been hurting at all?”
“No, but it gets itchy.”
“We’ll see what we can do about getting you a different cast, which should be lighter since it won’t have to be as thick to keep your arm in place.”
“Can I get a blue cast, like Chase?”
“Absolutely.” Davis smiles. Then he turns his attention to me. “Did Miss Carol tell you what’s going to happen today?”
“Just that we’ll take the cast off.”
Davis nods. Then he bends down to get to Connor’s eye level. “Hey, buddy?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re going to take your cast off with a machine that sounds loud and will make your arm vibrate. But don’t worry, it won’t cut you, okay?”
Connor nods in understanding.
“When it gets off, your arm will look kind of different. It may still have some bruises, and there will be some pins keeping it in place. Can you try hard not to straighten your arm?”
Connor just nods.
“Your mom will stay with you until it’s time for your x-ray. Then Miss Carol will take you to get a picture of your arm.”
Focusing his attention on me, he flashes that sexy smile that could melt my panties in an instant. “Do you have any questions?”
“No. I’m good.”
“Let’s take you to the casting room then.”
Miss Carol leads the way as Davis holds the door for us. Like always, when he’s in a new situation, Connor takes my hand to go down the hall. Walking past Davis, his faint cologne floods my brain with memories of our night together. It’s as if I’ve been transported back to Texas, and it takes a lot of strength to not reach out to touch him.
The casting room has multiple patient beds. There’s a teenage girl getting a new cast on her arm and a boy not much older than Connor getting one cut off his foot.
Davis must notice Connor’s posture stiffen because the minute Connor sits on the patient bed, he gets to his eye level to comfort him. “Don’t worry, Connor. I can stay with you the entire time you get the cast cut off if you’d like. It sounds much worse than it is, trust me.”
Then he walks over to the counter and grabs some gloves to put on. Grabbing a piece of cast from the trash beside him, he walks over and says, “Watch this.” He pulls over a saw similar to the one being used on the bed across the room. “See. Touch the top. All it does is vibrate. The blade itself barely extends beyond the guard.”
With Connor placing a finger on the cast in Davis’s hands, Davis presses the button on the saw and cuts into the other end of it for a second or two. When the machine turns off, Connor giggles. “That tickles.”
“Yep.” Davis nods in agreement. “That’s how it’s going to feel. I’ll cut along here.” He draws a finger up both the left and right of Connor’s arm. “Then I will have to use a special tool to split the cast apart entirely. I may even need to cut some of the bandages. Okay?”
My heart pings at the way he takes the time to explain this to Connor. He could have easily had a nurse or someone else do the task. I’m sure he’s busy, but right now, it’s as if we’re his only patients for the day.
Within a few minutes, the cast is removed, and Connor’s arm is exposed. I know I’ll likely regret it, but I look at the wound. There’s still ink from the surgery written on my son’s tiny arm and three thin metal rods sticking out. Instead of being straight, they’re curved at the ends. It looks gross, but not as bad as I’d imagined a million times in my mind.
He takes a few minutes to clean up Connor’s hand and forearm with a damp cloth. When he’s done, he looks to me. Miss Carol approaches with a wheelchair and says, “I’m not taking any chances with you, mister. Wanna go for a ride to x-ray?”
