“You fell hard. I saw it all.”
“You saw?”
He nodded, eyes downcast. “Out the window. It’s my fault.”
“Quit saying that. Anyone can slip on a freezing cold day.”
“I’m the one who kicked the snowbank and made that mess on the sidewalk. I’m so sorry, Dale.”
“Why did you kick a snowbank?”
He shrugged. “I’m going to report the ice on the walkway to the front desk.” Turning his back to me, he picked up the phone and started talking softly. When he hung up, he said, “Done. I’m so sorry, Dale.”
I still didn’t have an answer as to why he’d kicked the ice onto the pathway. It had been after breakfast while I’d been shopping. Had he been angry? Because I was leaving?
We needed to talk.
Before I could bring up the subject, Aspen was fluffing my pillows, tucking in the blanket around my half-naked form, then scampering off to make hot coffee.
I really was hurting. It felt good to be on the warm bed and draped in comfort.
A few minutes later, a knock came at the door. Aspen rushed to answer.
As hot coffee aroma began to fill the room, I listened as Aspen spoke to someone outside.
“Thanks. Yes, he fell pretty badly but we don’t need anything else.” A pause. “He’ll be staying here. He just needs rest. He can walk. Nothing’s broken.” Another pause. “That would be very nice. Thank you, again.”
The door closed.
“Who was that?”
“Henry from the front desk.” He came up to the side of the bed.
“Why?”
“I told him you slipped and were injured. He came by to check on us. And bring you these.” Aspen held up two pill bottles. One for regular pain relief. And ibuprofen for muscle relief. He set them down on the bedstand, then rushed to the fridge and got out a bottle of water. When he returned, he said, “You can’t take both at once. Which one?”
“I’m really okay.”
“Ibuprofen is good to keep the muscles from freezing up. If that doesn’t work, we’ll try the other.” Aspen was already opening the seal on the bottle and dumping two pills into his hand. He offered them to me.
“Thanks.” I really was grateful.
“Are you warm enough?”
I nodded.
Aspen fiddled with the coffee maker, made the coffee just how I liked it, and handed me the warm Santa mug I’d been using since we’d arrived. I took a sip. It was delicious.
He sat at the foot of the bed with his own mug. “Any better yet?”
“Waiting for the pills to hit.”
“I’m really sorry this happened.”
“Stop apologizing. But did I hear you tell Henry that I was staying here?”
He pressed his lips tight as if he was keeping some big secret. The tension thickened. To ease it, I spoke.
