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LIBBY
The doctor makes me tell him what happened and then insists on taking x-rays of my arm.
I’m sure nothing’s broken, and even though I have a massive headache, I’m more embarrassed than anything else.
I knew better than to get so high on the ladder. I’d been daydreaming and humming and I got distracted. I feel like an idiot.
“I’ll be right back with your results,” the doctor says before leaving the curtained area.
“Nothing’s broken,” I tell Carson.
He sits on the bed next to me. “Makes sense to check.”
I frown. “This is silly. We should be back at the house working.”
“You’re not working on anything for the rest of the day. Maybe longer.”
“Seriously?”
“Libby…” He breathes in and then exhales, looking like he’s trying to control himself. “They said you have a slight concussion, you’re banged up and bruised. It’s…fuck. I should have been in there with you.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him. “I should have paid more attention.”
He shakes his head and takes my hand, the uninjured one. “It happens.”
“I bet you have some stories.”
“I have a really nasty one about a nail gun.” He gives a small smile, but there’s little humor in it. “But I think I’ll save that one for later. Libby…”
I lean into his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“I thought…” His voice grows thick. “I don’t know what I thought. But when I heard you shout, I thought the worst. And when I saw you lying on the floor…”
“I was stunned, that’s all.”
“Because you fell off a ladder. I…” He reaches out to touch my cheek. “You scared the shit out of me. I didn’t like it.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know, but I still didn’t like it. The idea of something happening to you, happening to the woman I’m really starting to care about…”
His words hit me right in the heart. He’s really starting to care about me? “I feel the same way.”
He kisses me gently. When I grip his neck for another one, he shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
His lips curve, but he pulls back. “Nope. Not taking any chances.”
I stick my lip out in a pout. “No fair.”
“Once you feel better.”
“They’ll give me some drugs and then I’ll feel better. Then…” I lift my eyebrows suggestively, making him laugh. Once I hear his laughter, I feel better, too. I hadn’t realized how rattled he’d been. How much seeing me hurt had freaked him out. But maybe both of us need a break from this conversation. “Everything okay from earlier?”
“Earlier?”
“When we got here. You said you had to go to the bathroom, but I thought I heard you talking to someone.”
I’d heard voices in the hallway, and I’m sure one of them was Carson’s.
“Uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I saw an old friend—not a friend, really. No big deal.”
“That guy you used to work with?”
He looks uncomfortable, which is indication enough that something had happened. But before I can ask anything more, the doctor returns.
“No breaks that we can see,” he says, and when I start to smile and nod, he continues, “but you most likely sprained it.”
Carson grits his teeth, putting his arm around me. “How long will that take to heal?”
“We’ll give you some pain medication, you can wrap it to restrict movement. I’d recommend resting it for several days.”
I frown. “I have a lot of work to do. It’s—”
“It needs to be done,” Carson says.
I slide off the bed. “Can we go now?”
“You also have a mild concussion, and it’s probably a good idea to have someone keep an eye on you for the rest of the day.”
I resist rolling my eyes. I don’t feel bad. Okay, I take that back. I don’t feel terrible. But a few hours of rest should be enough and then I’ll be back on my feet.
“No work for the rest of the week,” the doctor says.
Carson squeezes me around the waist before I can answer. “I’ll make sure she gets some rest.”
Before I can argue, he discusses medication with the doctor, gets my prescription and then takes my good hand to lead me out the door.
“We’ll pick up your prescription first, and then head home,” he says, stopping on my side of his truck to open the door for me.
He helps me in, treating me like I’m a little kid. “Carson—”
“I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t want to hear it.” He gently shuts the door, gives me a pointed look through the window before walking around to his side.
I fold my arms, then wince when I bump my wrist, and unfold my arms. “What am I thinking?”
“You’re thinking we’re losing time. That you need to work. That we don’t have time for this.”
“We don’t have time for this,” I tell him. “Carson—”
“Just take a breath,” he suggests.
He turns to me, and in a motion that surprises me, he brushes my cheek with his thumb. Words fail me.
“I want to make sure you’re okay. I want…” He swallows and gives me a wry smile. “I want to take care of you. So, please let me.”
I blink, and then nod, more than moved. Surprised. “Okay.”
“Good.”
We pick up my prescription and Carson makes me take the pills in the car with a bottle of water he got at the drug store before we head home.
Home.
That’s what it is. Our home.
I can’t think of it any other way. It’s not my place or our project, it’s our home.
“Wait for me,” Carson says when we pull up in front of the house, stopping me from opening my door. “Let me get it.”
I oblige, already feeling the pain medication kicking in. It’s making me a lot more agreeable. He opens the door and takes my arm, and I lean on him because my head’s starting to swim. Because now that I’m not feeling quite so embarrassed about falling off a ladder, I’m able to relax and think of how nice it is to have someone here for me.
After all, my dad or my brother would never show up to help take care of me. Not that I’d tell them what I did. Just another reason for them to make fun of me—or to think that I have no idea what I’m doing.
One day. That’s all I’ll take. One day off before I get back to work. There’s no way I’m going to let anyone prove me wrong.
“Thank you,” I murmur as we reach the front door.
Carson glances over. “What?”
“Thank you.” I turn to him and lean into him, wrapping my arm around his waist. “For being here for me and for taking care of me. And for believing in me.”
He kisses my temple, and then presses another kiss to my lips when I lift my chin. “You’re welcome. You okay?”
“I am—I will be.”
“All right. Let’s get inside.”