Page 23 of Worth the Fight

“Anyone home?” I call out as I open the creaky side door. I expect to hear Nana's sassy voice call out to me, reminding me that she has nowhere to go or hush me so she can hear the contestants on her game show.

But I take pause, noticing the house is eerily quiet.

“Nana?” I say louder this time, my stomach twisting the longer it takes for her to respond. I quietly close the door, ears perked to the side, hoping that maybe I just missed her voice. My eyes dart around the kitchen, and I notice the coffee pot sitting empty. The filter is in with the bag of grounds propped next to it as if she was about to make her morning coffee.

“Nana,” I call out again, not bothering to kick my boots off as I make my way through the kitchen and down the main hall. Reaching the living room, my hand grips the doorway as I lean in, scanning around only to find it empty. The TV is off, and my skin prickles.

Nana never wavers from her mourning routine. She gets up, shuffles to the kitchen to make her coffee, and while it’s brewing, she flips on the television. She does half an hour of the morning news, followed by the weather, before her game shows start.

The sting starts in my throat. Nose burning. Fingertips falling numb. “Nana!” I bellow, nearly at the top of my lungs. It’s then that I hear a groan from her bedroom behind me. Spinning around, I jog down the hall in that direction and turn the corner into her bedroom. My gaze immediately falls to the floor where I see a head of white hair peeking out from the bathroom threshold. She’s lying on her side, her back facing me, and it doesn’t look like she’s breathing.

“Nana! Oh my God.” Images flash through my mind. First of Collins. Then Davis. The view I had of the wreckage and fire when I was stuck behind that rock. The image of what was left of them once we saw them. All the men I had to say goodbye to that day.

No. No, no, no. Please, God, no.

“Nana?” I take two tentative steps toward her, kneeling at her head as I reach a shaking hand out to rest on her shoulder.

She groans, and I purse my lips together, coaxing her to roll on her back to face me.

“Lukas,” she mumbles, and I exhale a ragged breath. My entire body shudders, shoulders shaking. “Lukas,” she says again. “What are you staring at? Acting like you’ve never seen an old lady fall before.”

I force out the best laugh I can, swiping the moisture from underneath my eye with the palm of my hand. “You scared me half to death, Nana.”

She has the audacity to tsk at that. “I scared you? I was half-asleep and woke up to you running down the hall screaming like a madman.” She winks at me, and I know she can read me like an open book, seeing the fear hiding underneath my skin.

She groans, moving her left leg up so her knee is bent. The bottom panels of her robe open, and it’s then that I see the way her right leg is twisted.

Shit.

“Try not to move much, Nana,” I tell her. My old first aid instincts kick in, and I take my first good look at her, noticing a bruise on the side of her head.

“Lie still if you can, but can you tell me where it hurts?”

“I’m not sure.”

I take her cold, clammy hands in mine, warming them between my palms for a second before asking her to squeeze.

She furrows her brow at me but does as I ask.

“Good. Can you give me your biggest smile?” My first instinct besides a fall is that she might have had a stroke, but when she rolls her eyes and tells me that now isn’t the time to flirt, I push out an annoyed breath, nostrils flaring.

She gives her best forced smile, and once I’m confident she didn’t have a stroke, not a massive one, anyway, I move on to assess the rest of her body. “What happened?”

“Well, I had slept in a bit today, probably was rushing myself too much. I was going to make my coffee but realized I forgot to take my curlers out. I came in here, just finished freshening up, and would you believe I tripped over that stupid rug that Ron is always telling me to get rid of?”

“Wouldn’t you know it?” I answer softly. Magnolia’s dad has been trying to safety proof Nana’s house since we were kids. Digging my phone out of my jacket pocket, I swipe the screen open and dial 911. The dispatcher answers as soon as I press the phone to my ear, and I rattle off Nana’s address.

“You don’t need to call an ambulance for me, Lukas. Just help me up and into my chair. If I'm feeling icky, then you can bring me to the doctors yourself. Wouldn't hurt to put you to work.” She groans under her breath as she tries to sit up, and I hang up the phone, pocketing it in the side of my jacket.

“Nana, I’d love to give you a ride, sweetheart.” She turns to face me as I adjust my position to sit next to her on the cool tile floor. “But I’m pretty sure you fractured your hip, and that's something you and I can't muscle together.”

She purses her lips, moving them side to side before mumbling, “Figures.”

I move to stand, probably a little too abruptly, and she sucks in a breath, her hand reaching out to grip my calf. “Where are you going?” Her voice is frantic, eyes wide, and looking down at her, I can see for the first time that the woman who always shows her strength, who can carry her own and go head for head with the best of us, is terrified right now.

I squat low, resting on my haunches. Reaching for her hand, I grip it in both of mine and bring it to my chest. “I’m going to go unlock the main door for the paramedics.” I pause, letting her agree with a brief nod before I continue, “Then I’m going to grab your purse, your reading glasses, probably your meds, and I'm gonna come sit right by you until they get here, all right?” She nods at that and a little bit of the worry leaves her face. “And then I'm gonna follow the ambulance all the way to the hospital. And after that, I’m gonna sit my ass in a chair next to your hospital bed while we figure out what the plan is. I won’t leave your side until you’re sick of me and make me go home, all right?”

She nods again. “Okay.”