How About No
Page 26
He waited, hand rock steady, inches away from him.
Finally, after what felt like fifteen minutes but was more likely three or four, Capo shifted until his back was pressing against Wade’s hand.
I breathed in deeply as tears came to my eyes.
The dog wasn’t a lost cause.
I knew it.
Chapter 12
Any pencil can be a number two pencil if you eat it.
-Wade to Landry
Wade
Running late, I parked my bike in the hospital parking lot and got off, hurrying as fast as my broken body could move without actually making agony jolt through me with every step.
I hadn’t intended to spend the afternoon trying to get a dog to like me, but something in Capo had sparked a protective instinct in me. I also hated seeing my wife cry.
Always had.
Which led me to now, five minutes late for an appointment that was necessary to me hopefully keeping my leg.
Papers in hand, I walked onto the floor and looked for the nurses’ station, finding it in the very center of the huge floor.
My eyes scanned the nurses that were all giving me their full attention.
“I’m looking for Tiffy,” I rumbled.
A woman stood up and started toward me, her face the only one in the entire bunch that looked disinterested in me.
I was used to women’s eyes being on me. One, because I was a police officer and being a police officer usually drew peoples’ attention to me. Two, because I had my dad’s genes. Tall, dark, and handsome—or so I’d been told.
Tiffy was a cute little thing. She was a short, slightly built woman with features that clearly hinted at Japanese ancestry.
“You are Wade?” she asked in a no-nonsense voice.
I nodded once. “That’s me.”
“You’re late,” she said.
I nodded. “I had a problem I had to deal with. I apologize.”
Tiffy—who didn’t look much like a Tiffy—narrowed her eyes. “Follow me. Your room is at the back of the floor.”
I did and grinned when I realized she wasn’t lying. The room really was in the back—and I meant way back.
It was also about three-quarters of the way through a remodeling process and likely wasn’t supposed to have any patients in it.
“I doubt that we’ll come check on you much once we get this started. The doctor said that you weren’t in need of our attention, and honestly, I can’t spare the manpower. We didn’t have room for another patient, and you in this room that isn’t even finished being remodeled goes to show that.” She showed me to the bed. “I don’t need you to change out of your clothes. I see that you’re in the sleep pants that the doctor recommended. Good. All I’ll need is your shirt off.”
I tossed my phone, wallet, and keys onto the bedside table and then kicked off my tennis shoes.
Once those were off, I took my shirt off and turned to sit on the bed.
Tiffy—whose nametag read Greta—a name that still didn’t fit her—walked in front of me and examined my arms.
“Left or right?” she questioned.
Her abrupt manner had me almost smiling.
I shrugged. “Left, I guess. I’m right-handed.”
She moved to my left hand and examined it. “Don’t even need a tourniquet.”
My lip twitched. “No, probably not.”
She put one on anyway and started an IV within seconds.
Moments after that, she directed me onto the bed. “I hope that your phone works, or that you’re tired. The television in here doesn’t work. We have two of these bags to run through you tonight. When this one is empty, I’ll come hang the other bag. It should be about eight hours of flow. Any questions?”
After getting a negative shake of the head, she did some fancy things with the iPad on the bedside table and scanned the antibiotics barcode followed shortly by the hospital bracelet I’d gotten at the doctor’s office earlier that morning.
She then hung up the meds—that had to have been in here waiting for me since I hadn’t seen her carry anything back with her—and got me started.
Once I was hooked up, she directed me to lay back.
“You can go to the bathroom. You can get up and walk around if you so please. You can also come to the nurses’ station if you need something to drink—but I really don’t have any time to spare. I have thirty patients and four nurses so…”
I was understanding exactly what she was saying.
I’d been fit in, and by being fit in, I’d have to make do with the accommodations.
“Fine with me,” I shrugged.
Tiffy nodded once. “Good. If you start to feel poorly, or you think something’s wrong, you’ll have to call the cell number that was given to you. Or yell. Yelling will likely get you a slower response though since we can’t really hear you all the way back here. Any questions?”
“No, ma’am,” I denied.
She narrowed her eyes. “All right, well, see you in about four hours, hopefully.”
With that, she turned and left, but came to an abrupt halt when she nearly ran face first into Landry.
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there,” Tiffy said to Landry.
Landry gave her a small smile. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to sneak in or anything.”
Tiffy waved it away. “These floors they have down to keep the ones beneath from being ruined are magical. I need to get some put in at my own place to keep my dog’s wanderings in the middle of the night from waking me up. Bye.”
With that she skirted around Landry and left, leaving us both watching each other in surprise.
“Abrupt, isn’t she?” Landry teased.
I grinned. “A little bit.”
I wouldn’t ask what she was doing here.
I knew why she was there, just as well as I knew why I’d wanted to ask her to come with me and didn’t.
I loved her, and I wanted her to be with me.
It didn’t matter whether I was at home watching TV, at a club party, or in the damn hospital getting IV antibiotics. I wanted her with me, and I wouldn’t apologize for that.
“Come here,” I ordered.
She did, walking farther into the room.
Stepping over the large extension cords and tools that were piled up in the middle of the room—it looked like the nurses had done a cursory effort to clean the room up before they’d allowed me in here—she came to my side.
Her eyes automatically looked around the room, and she frowned.
“I was going to stay, but there’s not a chair to sit in—not even one of the uncomfortable ones.” She looked so forlorn that it took me a lot longer to come up with a solution than it probably should have.
“Sit with me,” I said. “The bed’s big enough.”
She looked pointedly at the really small bed—at least it was ‘small’ when I was in it.
I was not a small man by any means, but we’d made it work before.
“Come on,” I urged, scooting over until I was on the very edge. It left her about ten inches to lay her body—and even more, if she draped herself over me. “We’ve done this before.”
Her eyes lit, and a smile curved up the corner of her mouth. “We have, haven’t we?”
Yes, we had.
It’d been one very memorable camping trip.
As she dropped all of her stuff on the table next to mine and shed the t-shirt she was wearing that left her in only a camisole, I started to talk about my memories.
“My favorite thing about that night was your hair…”
***
“Omg, this was the worst idea ever!” Landry cried from the seat behind me.
I turned and looked at her over my shoulder, nearly choking when I saw what she was referring to.
Her hair had been wet before she’d left the house, and since the helmet had covered the top of her head, it was still damp. The bottom of her hair, however, was not.
Now, looking at her without the helmet on, I nearly laughed.
The top of her hair was curly from about her ears up. Now, the bottom? Well, it was straight as a board from the wind whipping through it on our five-hour bike ride.
“Don’t laugh,” she growled.
Finally, after what felt like fifteen minutes but was more likely three or four, Capo shifted until his back was pressing against Wade’s hand.
I breathed in deeply as tears came to my eyes.
The dog wasn’t a lost cause.
I knew it.
Chapter 12
Any pencil can be a number two pencil if you eat it.
-Wade to Landry
Wade
Running late, I parked my bike in the hospital parking lot and got off, hurrying as fast as my broken body could move without actually making agony jolt through me with every step.
I hadn’t intended to spend the afternoon trying to get a dog to like me, but something in Capo had sparked a protective instinct in me. I also hated seeing my wife cry.
Always had.
Which led me to now, five minutes late for an appointment that was necessary to me hopefully keeping my leg.
Papers in hand, I walked onto the floor and looked for the nurses’ station, finding it in the very center of the huge floor.
My eyes scanned the nurses that were all giving me their full attention.
“I’m looking for Tiffy,” I rumbled.
A woman stood up and started toward me, her face the only one in the entire bunch that looked disinterested in me.
I was used to women’s eyes being on me. One, because I was a police officer and being a police officer usually drew peoples’ attention to me. Two, because I had my dad’s genes. Tall, dark, and handsome—or so I’d been told.
Tiffy was a cute little thing. She was a short, slightly built woman with features that clearly hinted at Japanese ancestry.
“You are Wade?” she asked in a no-nonsense voice.
I nodded once. “That’s me.”
“You’re late,” she said.
I nodded. “I had a problem I had to deal with. I apologize.”
Tiffy—who didn’t look much like a Tiffy—narrowed her eyes. “Follow me. Your room is at the back of the floor.”
I did and grinned when I realized she wasn’t lying. The room really was in the back—and I meant way back.
It was also about three-quarters of the way through a remodeling process and likely wasn’t supposed to have any patients in it.
“I doubt that we’ll come check on you much once we get this started. The doctor said that you weren’t in need of our attention, and honestly, I can’t spare the manpower. We didn’t have room for another patient, and you in this room that isn’t even finished being remodeled goes to show that.” She showed me to the bed. “I don’t need you to change out of your clothes. I see that you’re in the sleep pants that the doctor recommended. Good. All I’ll need is your shirt off.”
I tossed my phone, wallet, and keys onto the bedside table and then kicked off my tennis shoes.
Once those were off, I took my shirt off and turned to sit on the bed.
Tiffy—whose nametag read Greta—a name that still didn’t fit her—walked in front of me and examined my arms.
“Left or right?” she questioned.
Her abrupt manner had me almost smiling.
I shrugged. “Left, I guess. I’m right-handed.”
She moved to my left hand and examined it. “Don’t even need a tourniquet.”
My lip twitched. “No, probably not.”
She put one on anyway and started an IV within seconds.
Moments after that, she directed me onto the bed. “I hope that your phone works, or that you’re tired. The television in here doesn’t work. We have two of these bags to run through you tonight. When this one is empty, I’ll come hang the other bag. It should be about eight hours of flow. Any questions?”
After getting a negative shake of the head, she did some fancy things with the iPad on the bedside table and scanned the antibiotics barcode followed shortly by the hospital bracelet I’d gotten at the doctor’s office earlier that morning.
She then hung up the meds—that had to have been in here waiting for me since I hadn’t seen her carry anything back with her—and got me started.
Once I was hooked up, she directed me to lay back.
“You can go to the bathroom. You can get up and walk around if you so please. You can also come to the nurses’ station if you need something to drink—but I really don’t have any time to spare. I have thirty patients and four nurses so…”
I was understanding exactly what she was saying.
I’d been fit in, and by being fit in, I’d have to make do with the accommodations.
“Fine with me,” I shrugged.
Tiffy nodded once. “Good. If you start to feel poorly, or you think something’s wrong, you’ll have to call the cell number that was given to you. Or yell. Yelling will likely get you a slower response though since we can’t really hear you all the way back here. Any questions?”
“No, ma’am,” I denied.
She narrowed her eyes. “All right, well, see you in about four hours, hopefully.”
With that, she turned and left, but came to an abrupt halt when she nearly ran face first into Landry.
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there,” Tiffy said to Landry.
Landry gave her a small smile. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to sneak in or anything.”
Tiffy waved it away. “These floors they have down to keep the ones beneath from being ruined are magical. I need to get some put in at my own place to keep my dog’s wanderings in the middle of the night from waking me up. Bye.”
With that she skirted around Landry and left, leaving us both watching each other in surprise.
“Abrupt, isn’t she?” Landry teased.
I grinned. “A little bit.”
I wouldn’t ask what she was doing here.
I knew why she was there, just as well as I knew why I’d wanted to ask her to come with me and didn’t.
I loved her, and I wanted her to be with me.
It didn’t matter whether I was at home watching TV, at a club party, or in the damn hospital getting IV antibiotics. I wanted her with me, and I wouldn’t apologize for that.
“Come here,” I ordered.
She did, walking farther into the room.
Stepping over the large extension cords and tools that were piled up in the middle of the room—it looked like the nurses had done a cursory effort to clean the room up before they’d allowed me in here—she came to my side.
Her eyes automatically looked around the room, and she frowned.
“I was going to stay, but there’s not a chair to sit in—not even one of the uncomfortable ones.” She looked so forlorn that it took me a lot longer to come up with a solution than it probably should have.
“Sit with me,” I said. “The bed’s big enough.”
She looked pointedly at the really small bed—at least it was ‘small’ when I was in it.
I was not a small man by any means, but we’d made it work before.
“Come on,” I urged, scooting over until I was on the very edge. It left her about ten inches to lay her body—and even more, if she draped herself over me. “We’ve done this before.”
Her eyes lit, and a smile curved up the corner of her mouth. “We have, haven’t we?”
Yes, we had.
It’d been one very memorable camping trip.
As she dropped all of her stuff on the table next to mine and shed the t-shirt she was wearing that left her in only a camisole, I started to talk about my memories.
“My favorite thing about that night was your hair…”
***
“Omg, this was the worst idea ever!” Landry cried from the seat behind me.
I turned and looked at her over my shoulder, nearly choking when I saw what she was referring to.
Her hair had been wet before she’d left the house, and since the helmet had covered the top of her head, it was still damp. The bottom of her hair, however, was not.
Now, looking at her without the helmet on, I nearly laughed.
The top of her hair was curly from about her ears up. Now, the bottom? Well, it was straight as a board from the wind whipping through it on our five-hour bike ride.
“Don’t laugh,” she growled.
