Page 184 of The Billionaire's Secret
I glance at the pills.
"You’re not going to make me take those," he growls.
"Nah, man." I set them down on the table next to the bed, "I am not your nurse. Besides, you’re funny about painkillers, right?"
"Yeah," he scowls at his injured arm. "The fuckers say I need to rest my hand," he growls.
"What happened?" I ask.
His face reddens, "I fractured my finger, apparently."
"Finger?" I clear my throat, "Don't tell me... It's..."
"My fucking middle finger." He holds up his hand with the sling, showing me the bird... Or rather, his middle finger in a splint.
He winces, then lowers his hand. "Hurts like a bitch, too," he grumbles.
A chuckle bubbles up; I change it to a snort.
"You think this is a joke, Caldwell?"
"Of course, not." I keep the grin on my face though. "You're a doctor. Can't you make them change the diagnosis?"
He glowers back, "Funny. Should I laugh at that?"
"Don’t care, ol' chap, just don't cry on my shoulder."
He pushes into the bed, "Why are you here, you dickhead?"
I stop laughing. "What happened?" I lean forward.
"This car came out of nowhere and forced me off the road."
"You sure?" I steeple my fingers together.
"Do I look like I am kidding?"
"No," I drag my fingers through my hair. "Well, the good news is, it’s only a fracture."
"To my hand. My right hand. My fucking dominant hand. You know what this means, right?"
I straighten, "You’ll be out of commission for a little time?"
"I am a surgeon, asshole. If the arm doesn’t mend properly, I’ll never be able to operate again."
"Shit," I pale. "I’m sorry man."
"Fuck." He bangs his head back against the headboard, "Fucking, fuck."
"Easy." I frown down at my friend, "At least, you’re alive."
"They weren’t trying to kill me, just put me out of commission."
"By causing you to fracture your middle finger?"
He scoffs, "It wasn’t an accident, man, I’ll tell you that."
"So, you think this was done on purpose?" I frown.
