Sadie rushes toward him. “Grant!” She tries to grab his arm, but the medical staff heave a sigh and block her. A nurse rolls her eyes. Maybe this is a familiar scene to them.
Grant stays still. I go to him, wanting to see how he’s doing for myself.
“What areyoudoing here?” Sadie says.
“I just want to check if he’s okay,” I respond, ignoring her hostility. Grant is so much more important than her issues with me.
“Nobody invited you.”
“Actually, Grant did.”
A guy in a white uniform says, “Sadie, you mind helping us by grabbing the bandages for Grant from over there?”
I don’t think the man needs any help. He probably just wants to separate us, and she’s closer to him than I am. On top of that, he doesn’t know me.
She looks at me like she’s torn, not wanting me near Grant, but also not wanting to look like an unhelpful bitch. Finally, she stomps away.
I place a gentle hand over Grant’s cheek. “Come on, Grant.” I bite my lip. “You’re scaring me.”
His eyelashes move a little, then he opens his eyes. They wander for a moment, then meet mine.
Relief pours through me. Something wet trickles down my face, and I realize I’m crying. “Are you okay?” I ask, wiping away my tears impatiently.
He looks up at me mutely. He seems vaguely confused and stunned.
It’s probably a concussion.Anybody would have one when they’ve fallen off a horse and then gotten rolled under it.
He opens his mouth. After blinking once, he licks his lips. “Aspen,” he whispers softly, like he’s in awe.
“Out of the way!” Sadie says, shoving me away with her hands and hips.
I stumble and almost fall. Damn it.
“Youneed to get out of the way,” a guy with a nametag that readsDr. Wilsonsays to Sadie.
“But—”
“Unless you have a medical degree, I suggest you let me do my job.”
I’m too restless to take a seat, so I just stand there. We wait for what feels like forever. Sadie shoots me a dirty look from time to time from her plastic chair, but she stops with the verbal abuse. When she tried, she got shushed by Dr. Wilson, who said he can’t work with shrill noises.
Finally, he announces, “Nothing seems to be broken.” He starts packing up his medical equipment.
“He could be concussed,” I say. What kind of doctor thinks no broken bones is enough?
“I’m not,” Grant says from the bed.
“You don’t know that,” I say.
“I didn’t hit my head.”
“Grant, baby, who cares what she says?” Sadie sticks close to him, now that Dr. Wilson is done.
I stay in the corner I was occupying, since it feels ridiculous to follow her lead. I’m not going to create a scene from some third-rate love-triangle drama and beg for Grant’s attention when he seems perfectly okay with her wrapped around him.
But even as I tell myself that, I feel like crap. Not sure why. Maybe it’s the shock of seeing him get rolled like dough.
Be honest. You hate the way her long, manicured nails are digging into him.
