Page 52 of Love in Tandem
“You can come back now. The doctor’s all done with her.”
The nurse hit a round button on the wall, and Zach followed her past the automatic doors. The nurse pulled back a curtain and spoke to Charlotte. “Your boyfriend’s here. Once I find you a wheelchair, you can go.”
The nurse let the curtain fall back into place. Zach stared at it for a beat. Then slowly pulled it back and peered inside.
Charlotte lay on a stretcher, her right foot wrapped in a bandage and propped on a pillow. She tugged her blanket up to her neck as he stepped next to her.
He opened his mouth, not sure where to start.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Charlotte cut him off.
He closed his mouth. Ooooh-kay.
A circle of pink infused her cheeks, and she kept her gaze locked on her foot. His mouth worked, trying to form words. Because they had to talk about it, didn’t they? They couldn’t just pretend none of that had happened. They were in an emergency room, for crying out loud.
He cleared his throat. “What did the doctor say?”
She continued staring at her foot.
“Charlotte, we have to talk about that.” He pointed to her foot. “And—” he made a generalized circular motion with his hands toward the rest of her body—“that.”
She tugged her blanket further up her chin.
“The poison ivy,” Zach said. “Not . . . you know.” The fact he’d seen her in nothing but a towel, and even though she’d been completely covered and he hadn’t seen anything he shouldn’t have, the sight of her in nothing but a towel had affected him more than seeing a woman at the beach, scantily clad in a bikini, ever had.
Yeah, probably best not to discuss that. “What did he say about the poison ivy?” Zach repeated.
Her forehead smoothed out and she seemed to relax the tiniest bit. “They gave me some cream just in case, but so far it seems to be fine. Maybe a spot or two on my right side. I might be one of the lucky few that’s not that allergic.”
“And your foot? That was a big piece of broken glass you stepped on. Is it going to heal okay? Are you going to be able to ride? Do we need to call off the rest of the trip?”
“They cleaned it up, put in a few stitches, and gave me a tetanus shot. It’s on my heel. I should still be able to bike since I don’t put much pressure on that part of my foot when I’m pedaling.”
Zach winced. “You sure? Is that what the doctor said? We don’t have to—”
“We do.” Charlotte jutted out her chin. “We can’t stop. Not now. We’re halfway there.”
“We’re not even halfway to halfway there.”
“All the more reason we have to keep going then. I’ll be fine.” She scratched her right side, then seemed to realize what she was doing, and forced herself to stop. “And not another word about this. To anyone. Ever.”
The nurse swiped back the curtain and pushed in a wheelchair. She angled it right next to the stretcher. “All right, Charlotte. Here we go.” Looking at Zach, she said, “So I’m sure she already told you all this, but she’ll need to keep that foot clean and protected and elevated for the next twenty-four hours.”
Zach met Charlotte’s gaze, and she gave her head a small shake. He rolled his eyes, biting back his words, until they made it out of the emergency room. The moment the doors closed behind him, he leaned around her. “The doctor said it was fine to keep riding, did he? What about keeping your foot elevated?”
“If possible, he said. If possible.”
Zach shook his head and pulled out his phone. The same Uber driver who’d picked them up from the park, probably the only Uber driver in a thirty-mile radius, arrived in the parking lot. “Everything turn out okay?” the young man asked.
Charlotte pushed herself up from the wheelchair as Zach opened the back door for her. “Two stitches. No biggie.”
Zach harrumphed as he shut the door and returned the wheelchair to the entrance. “No biggie,” he muttered. He’d see how she felt about that tomorrow after they’d been riding all day and her heel throbbed liked the dickens and she was ready to claw her skin off.
Still, he had to hand it to her. She was taking the pain and discomfort in stride. Much better than the way she’d handled being seen in a towel.
He slammed his eyes shut. Nope. Don’t go there. Erase. Delete. Forget.
The more he tried to forget, the more he remembered. Maybe it would be better if they did talk about it. “You know, Charlotte—”
