Page 136 of Traces Of You
Reenie undid the gown in the back, pushed it off his shoulders, then helped him get a T-shirt over his head.
His leg was in a brace keeping it straight, so she slid his underwear and shorts over it and he could get the rest on himself.
“Feel better?”
“At least more decent.”
“What are you doing?” a nurse asked, marching in.
“Getting clothes on. I need to use the bathroom. Are there crutches around here?”
“Wheelchair,” the nurse said. She pulled it from the corner. “We’ll get you in it and there. They should have a room ready within an hour for you. Having pull gets the job done faster.”
He wasn’t sure if it meant him being the sheriff or his brother being an ER doctor.
Probably Blaze.
After he used the bathroom, they wheeled him back to bed.
“I think we need a nap,” he said to Reenie.
“I’ll nap if you do,” she said. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“You’re never going to, right?”
“Never,” she said, climbing in next to him again.
The minute she was next to his side, her eyes shut, his doing the same.
She’d be safe as long as she was with him.
36
IF YOU INSIST
“You’re the worst patient,” Reenie said two days later.
“I couldn’t stay there another night. There is no reason for it. And you’re exhausted too. We’ll both feel better here.”
“I admit it will be nice to sleep in your bigger bed.”
Ford came in on his crutches. No brace now, but he was told not to put any pressure on his leg for a few more days.
“And I need a shower,” he said. “I can’t stand myself.”
There was no shower in the room he’d had the past two nights, but she’d helped him clean up with a washcloth and towel that his mother had brought, along with some more clothes for her.
Reenie had some clothing left at his place too, so she’d be good for a few days after she did some laundry.
“We can get you in the shower, but you can’t get your wound too wet.”
“My mother said she dropped off the shower chair my father used when he had surgery. I can try it if it makes you feel better.”
“Since you’ve got a handheld wand in the shower, it will be easy enough. I’ll wash your hair for you.”
He closed one annoyed eye at her. “No. I can wash my hair. You can’t get your arm wet either.”
“Unlike you, I can get it a little damp, but not soak it. I’m still going to put a bag over it anyway and just use one hand to wash my hair and clean up for a few days.”
