Page 74 of Silver-Tongued Devil
“Yep.” Blake didn’t try to stand up this time. Falling over wouldn’t look good. “But I do have those.”
When the sheriff and deputy finally left, taking his brand-new phone number with them along with a reluctant agreement to call him with an update, Blake thought,Dakota,and hauled on his knee again to stand. He was the only one in the waiting room now, the lady with the toddler having disappeared sometime during his clothing change.
He went over to the nurse behind the desk again, said, “I want to guarantee that payment for Dakota’s bills,” and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.
She took his credit card and said, “The doctor will see you now.”
“Huh? I don’t need to see the doctor.”
She inclined her head toward the back of the room. Blake turned around, and there the guy was, his arms folded across his chest. Same guy, with no customers. Dangerous.
“Yeah,” the doctor said, “I know. It’s just a flesh wound. Come back here and let me take a look at it anyway.”
Blake said, “I know this knee. It’s my knee.”
The doctor said, “You’re not making a whole lot of sense right now. Get back here before I decide I need to MRI your brain.”
Blake went, which didn’t turn out to be any more fun than he’d expected, and ended up the way he’d expected, too. After a whole lot of prodding and manipulation that upped the pain quotient way too much, he’d been told it was his MCL, which he could already tell, and that he probably needed another MRI “to be on the safe side,” which he already knew. He’d answered, “Yeah, I figured you’d say that,” with only a moderate amount of sarcasm.
He came out with some pain meds—carefully non-narcotic—his knee wrapped in an elastic bandage, and a couple more ice packs. He’d thought about refusing the meds, but on the way over to the main wing of the hospital, he stopped at a drinking fountain and swallowed the first pill, because damn, that hurt.
He was going to be crashing soon. But first, he needed to see Dakota. He needed to see her bad.
When she saw Blake walking through the door like a peg-legged sailor, all Dakota could say was, “Oh, no. Blake.”
He stopped. “What?”
“Your leg. What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“What do you mean, nothing happened? I canseethat something happened. How?”
She was trying to yell at him, but her chest hurt, and she couldn’t. She was all over the place, and it was scaring her. When she’d been lying here, trying to figure it out, and the deputy had come in and sent Russ and Evan away, and she’d realized what he was asking her, if Blake had tried todrownher… she’d wanted to shout then, too. She’d wanted to demand to see Blake.
Had she done that, though? No. Instead, she’d cried. She’d started sobbing so hard, in fact, that Russell had come bursting in like the posse, with Evan right behind him, still holding Gracie. Savior with a baby carrier. After that, the deputy had taken her over it again and again, and she’d nearly cried again, remembering her terror. She’d wanted to be strong, and she hadn’t been able to be strong enough.
The deputy hadn’t sounded like he believed her, no matter how many times she told him. Now, Blake was here, but he was hurt? She lay in the bed, immobilized by the IV in her hand, the clip on her finger, and the stupid oxygen tube in her nose, and tried to explain it to him. “You didn’t come, and they said… and now yourleg…”
“She’s going off again, Russ,” Evan muttered from her left side.
“Yep.” Russell heaved himself to his feet on her right. “Come on. Let’s go get breakfast. We’ll bring back some coffee for you all. Maybe a cinnamon roll. Cinnamon roll sound good, Blake?”
“Dakota, though,” Evan said. He’d stood, too, with Gracie, who was still in her carrier. Three men hovering around, and nobody was even giving her a friggin’hug?Couldn’t theytellthat was what she needed?
Russell said, “I guess Blake can take over for a little while. He needs the chair anyway.”
Dakota wiped her face with a tissue. She couldn’t even be a drama queen when she’d almost drowned, apparently. Not if there was nobody to listen. The thought was making her tear up again, stupid as it was, or maybe that was Blake. Why was he just standing there?
Because she had a plastic tube in her nose, which was also running. Her hair was like seaweed, and she’d gotten stuck in his lake, somehow, diving too deep, had nearly drowned herself, and had practically gotten him arrested for attempted murder. Those could be a few powerful reasons.
It had been such a wonderful night, and it had turned into a nightmare. Blake had hurt his leg again getting her out, and his beautiful boat…
He came to sit beside her, ignoring the others, took her hand, and said, his voice so tender, “Come on, baby. Don’t cry. It’s all right. It’s all over.”
That was all it took. She was weeping for good. Russ was practically hauling Evan out the door, and she was crying all over Blake. “Sorry,” she got out through the tears, then started to cough and couldn’t stop. Blake was on the bed, his arm behind her, looking panicked.
She stopped coughing at last, picked up the water glass from her table, and took some sips. “It’s just… it’s… sorry. It’s sostupid.” She put the glass down. “I can’t… seem to keep it together.” She tried to laugh, and blew her nose again. “They kept asking me these questions. They thought youdrownedme. I kept saying, no, I got tangled up. But I couldn’t explain it well enough, because I still can’t figure out what happened. And your leg. What’s wrong with your leg?”
