“Let me make a call.” She pulled out her phone and stepped away from him. He imagined she was going to call the admin office to see if there was anybody who could talk to them.
“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, and she waved her hand, her back turned to him. He headed back over to Mitch, who gave him a mulish look as soon as he got within range.
“I can’t afford surgery right now, Cam. Bills are still coming in from when I was in the hospital from breaking my back.”
“What’s cost if you pay cash?”
“Eight thousand.”
“Dammit. Well, we can start a GoFundMe, right?”
“Sure, but when does that actually work?” Mitch grimaced wildly, and Cam could see the muscles in his back spasming, seethe pain in the way Mitch’s arms moved involuntarily, his hands clenching.
“The doctor is getting us a financial advisor to talk to, and we’re going to do it.”
“Who appointed you my new mommy?” Mitch tried to stand up, but he couldn’t. His legs simply wouldn’t do it.
“I reckon it was a cross between my mom and your girls. Come on, Mitch, let’s think about this logically. If we get this surgery, especially if they can do this minimally invasive injection thing, you could be back on your feet in two to three weeks, she says.”
“I can’t. I can’t do it.” Mitch stared at him, those dark brown eyes like two holes in a blanket. “Just get me out of here.”
“No.” The word fell flat, like a turd in a punch bowl, right between them, but Cam meant it. He was going to sit here and wait for the financial advisor, and they were going to talk about this, and then he was going to figure out how to get Mitch the money he needed to do this surgery. It was like a crusade now. He was going to do this.
“Damn it, Cam. Why did I call you?”
“I’m guessing because you didn’t have anybody else to call. Stop being so stubborn, okay? Think about your daughters. If you do this thing with the plasty or whatever she called it, downtime is minimal. You could be back with your girls in a couple of days and maybe not back on a roof, but certainly back to doing some kind of work in no time.” Why couldn’t Mitch see that this was the ideal? Surgery was the solution. Cam knew it, even though sometimes he’d had to make that tough choice himself.
He’d broken his wrist a couple of years ago, and he’d had to let it heal the hard way, which had sucked because it never did feel right after that. Now he could probably have the surgery, but again like Mitch, he didn’t want to be out of circulation that long.
Mitch blew out a breath, but he didn’t get to answer because the doctor came over. “Someone is coming from financial. They’ll meet you here because I know you’re having a hard time, Mitch, and you don’t want to be in a wheelchair going through the whole hospital up to the front.”
Mitch opened his mouth, but Cam interrupted him. “That’s great, thank you. That’s perfect.” Had to strike while the iron was hot and while Mitch felt like shit. Because otherwise, he wouldn’t get this done.
And dammit, they were going to do this.
If Mitch could recover in just a couple of weeks, he could be back on the road in no time. And those girls would have their daddy back. It was a win-win all the way around.
He’d be the hero, Mitch would be all fixed up, and life would get back to normal.
Thank God.
Chapter Six
Mitch was fairly sure he hated Campbell Halley.
Hated the smug bastard with the fiery burning passion of a thousand suns, in fact.
But as he sat in his front room, six hours after having his vertebroplasty with his pain already backing off some?
He reckoned he could live with that.
He sat in his recliner, blinking and dopey. He guessed that meant the pain meds were decent.
One way or the other, the doctor said the surgery was an absolute success. She’d shot concrete into his bones, and he was going to be okay.
Couldn’t work for six weeks. Couldn’t lift anything for four. Had zero idea about what the hell he was going to do to pay his bills.
But he was already considering staying alive.
