Page 27 of Tied to You
Deep down, I know I should have laid her down gently and should probably tend to her foot. I just can’t see past the red haze blocking my vision.
Storming to the kitchen, I yank open the freezer door and grab a bag of peas, slamming it shut behind me as I return to her.
Her hair’s no longer whipped across her cheek as I find her leant forward, gingerly trying to remove her boot, her foot perched on the edge of the sofa. She turns her back to me when she sees me come back into the room.
I stand and watch, listening to the meek whimpers that escape her. I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to hide the agony she’s clearly in. Trying desperately not to need my help.
With an over-the-top roll of my eyes, I’m unable to listen to her struggle anymore. “Stop,” I tell her, moving to sit on the sofa by her feet. I lift both of her legs, placing them across mine.
“I’m fine,” Mollie hisses, as I overpower her, untying her laces before I slowly remove her boot against her will.
Her chocolate eyes narrow at me.
“Stop looking at me like that. I’m trying to help you.”
She huffs, crossing her arms, and I’m instantly defensive.
“Why do you have to be such hard work?” I ask rhetorically, snapping at her, pretty sure she won’t answer… that is until I hear her take a huge intake of breath.
I ready myself for her wrath.
“How about the fact that instead of showing up and fucking being here for your uncle when he needed you, you’ve been doing fuck knows what, with God knows who!”
Wow. A small part of me backs up, knowing she’s right. I should have been here when Mick first called me. Truth is, I didn’t want to see the face staring back at me now. It was easier to ignore her rather than show myself. “You know nothing about me and why I haven’t shown up here lately.”
“I know enough. You’re a selfish, big-headed, useless excuse of a man.”
I swear, my fucking jaw would drop if it weren’t for the fact my teeth are locked together. That’s the second time she’s called me that.
She shows her teeth when she winces, trying to move.
“Hold still.” I place the bag of peas over her clearly swollen foot. Pulling down one edge of her sock, I can see blue mixed with purple already starting to taint her smooth skin.
“How bad is it?” she asks tentatively, still in agony.
Removing the peas, I slowly peel off her sock. Given the nature of the work she’s chosen to take on, I’d expected her feet to be battered and unattractive. Instead, I find five painted toenails and skin as smooth as a baby’s. I carefully run my hand over the arch of her foot before placing the peas back down on the bruises. “Hard to say. I’m pretty useless when it comes to determining whether a foot is broken or not.”
I see Mollie recoil a fraction, but she remains quiet.
The door creaks open, and Mick and Dean appear, clearly a little flustered.
“Everything alright?” Dean asks.
“I think it’s broken,” I tell him, looking up at Mick.
“Shit,” Mick mutters. “I’ll grab your things then drive you to the hospital.”
I feel Mollie stiffen under the gentle hold I have on her. “No, Mick, I’mgood—” she tries to move on a cry, “—ahh!”
“You’re not fuckinggood,” I snap.
Dean looks at me, but I don’t return it.
Mick leaves the room, and I hear Janette coming down the stairs. “What’s going on?” she asks, stepping closer to us. I notice her hands are holding her cardigan around her, but her fingers don’t curl all the way into her palm. She must be in pain today.
“Mollie’s foot’s broken,” Dean says.
My aunt double takes, taking in the sight of my pal before her. “Oh, honey.” She steps closer, double taking again when she registers it’s him. “Christ, Dean, is that you?”
