Page 9 of Sustain

This is different. This is new.

This isnice.

“I’ve got you. Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” he whispers into my hair.

Goosebumps run all over me. I’ve never heard those words spoken to me before.Ever.

I’m not someone you typically speak those words to.

Or am I?

six

. . .

Honey Don’t Think

Ian

The sudden instinct to want to protect Mackenzie and take care of her is surprising. I’m not a touchy-feely kind of guy, so wrapping myself around her like this is entirely out of character for me. That is, apart from my daughters, June and Hayley. They get all the hugs I can manage when I see them, which isn’t as often as I’d like.

Knowing that Mackenzie isn’t the type to ever ask for help makes me want to do it even more. I understand what it’s like to be too stubborn for your own good because I’m just like her in that regard. And I think if I were in her situation, deep down, I’d want someone to step up and take care of me.

I’d grumble and whinge about it endlessly, but secretly, I’d probably like being tended to. Especially if it was by Mackenzie. I haven’t had enough of that in my life, especially since my divorce.

As soon as I think that, I pull out and wave my own inner red flag. I can’t be thinking about Mackenzie in any way other than professionally. Yes, this is an extenuating circumstance, but once this passes, it’s back to business as usual. The keyword is ‘business.’

A doctor enters the room, and for a moment, I can feel Mackenzie tense next to me. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m sitting on the bed with her and someone walked in or if she’s worried about what the doctor’s about to say. On the off chance that it’s me she’s tense about, I stand up, releasing her, and I suddenly feel like I want to jump back in and hold her again. Shield her from whatever this guy’s about to say. But, I restrain myself.

“Well, you took quite a spill, huh, Ms. Roberts?” The doctor says. Not really asking a question.

Mackenzie just stares at him, her eyes still shiny, but a determination in her expression to handle whatever comes at her in the next few moments. Again, I want to hold her hand or something. I feel like a bystander, which, I guess I am.

“Right...” the doctor continues after not getting the jovial response he was probably expecting. “Well, there’s definitely a break, but it’s not as bad as it could have been. You were extremely lucky.” He slides the X-ray over the light box and turns it on.

“I don’t feel very lucky,” Mackenzie mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. I smile inwardly, recognizing the tenacious spirit is back in her demeanor.

“Well, you only fractured your fibula, the bone on the outside of your calf, and not your tibia, which is the bigger, weight-bearing shinbone. Plus it’s just a hairline fracture. So, we won’t have to do a full-blown cast. But, you’re going to have one hell of a bruise for sure.”

“Does that mean I’ll be able to walk?” Mackenzie asks, not even looking at the X-ray. She just wants the bottom line. Typical Mackenzie.

“I wouldn’t recommend it in the short term,” the doctor says, taking off his glasses, and wiping them on the hem of his scrubs shirt. “I assume you don’t live in the area?”

“No, I’m just here for the festival,” she says impatiently. Her eyes are starting to fill again, and I think it’s more out of frustration than anything else at this point. “So, whatcanI do?”

He stares at her for a moment, gauging how he’ll respond. He seems to realize the kind of person he’s dealing with in Mackenzie.

No nonsense.

“You’ll have to wear a brace, which we’ll fit you with. The fibula is a stabilizing bone, so we’ll need to shore that up for a while.” He pulls the X-ray from the light box and shuts it off. “You’ll probably be in the acute pain stage for at least a day or two, and we’ll give you medicine to get through that. You’ll need to check in with your regular doctor once you get home and, most likely, an orthopedist--”

“Wait, no narcotics.” She suddenly declares adamantly as she sits up and twists to look up at the IV bag, squinting to read the label.

The doctor and I both glance at each other in surprise. I shrug, knowing absolutely nothing about Mackenzie’s medical history.

“Is there an allergy or... An issue that I should know about?” the doctor asks, eyebrows raising in concern. He takes a few cautious steps toward the IV, already flooding morphine into her system.

“What? No. Nothing like that,” she says, shaking her head. Her expression appears confused and haunted, and my curiosity is piqued. “I just don’t like being out of it. I don’t want to take anything that could be...I just don’t want any.”

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