Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Where are your Mickey ears?” I ask him.
“In my room at the ranch,” he says. “In the big house, not in the bunkhouse.”
I smile softly. “Aw, you still have them?”
He purses his lips. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Hey, I still have my Little Mermaid ears,” I inform him. “They’re cool.”
Finally, I see the hospital come into view, and when we park, the back doors fling open, and the paramedics carefully pull Aiden out, trying not to jostle his shoulder.
“I’m here,” I hear Ryker call out as he runs from where he parked just about ten yards away, and then his hand is in mine as we walk right behind the gurney and EMTs.
“Take him to bay six,” someone calls out, and then suddenly we’re in a cramped room with curtains rather than walls in this small ER, and the medics, along with two nurses, gingerly move Aiden onto the bed.
Ryker pulls me against his chest, my back to his front, and wraps his arms around my shoulders. I soak in his strength, his warmth, as my emotions flutter all over the damn place. I want to scream at them to hurry up, but I don’t want them to hurt my kid, and I need to stay out of their way.
“He’s going to be okay,” Ryker murmurs into my ear. “See? He’s alert, and he’s answering questions.”
I nod, but there’s a huge lump in my throat, and I can’t answer him.
“Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve had my fair share of knocks on the head and injuries, and I’m telling you, he’s going to be fine.”
“Okay,” I whisper and squeeze his forearms against my chest.
We’re ushered out when they wheel in an x-ray machine, and then after we’ve waited about twenty minutes, a doctor roughly our age walks in. He’s in a white coat, and it reads “Dr. Ashby.”
“Well, I have good news,” the doctor says with a smile for Aiden. I’m clasping his good hand in mine. “The shoulder isn’t broken, but it is dislocated, and that means we have to reset it.”
“And that’s going to hurt like a bitch,” Aiden guesses.
Dr. Ashby’s lips twitch with humor. “Not gonna lie. It’s going to hurt. But we can give you meds—”
“Just do it,” Aiden says, shaking his head. “It feels weird, and I’d rather get it over with.”
“You don’t want to be here for this,” Ryker tells me and tries to pull me away, but I adamantly shake my head.
“I’m not leaving.”
“It’s okay, Aunt Wills,” Aiden says and squeezes my hand. “You should step out. I’m okay.”
“No.”
“I can also report,” the doctor continues, “that there is no concussion, and the ankle is just twisted. You have some scrapes that we’ll clean up for you, but you’ll be able to go home in about an hour.”
“Good,” Aiden says. “I have work to do.”
“No work for quite a while,” the doctor says. “You’ll need to keep that shoulder immobile for about six weeks while it heals.”
“No way.”
“Yes way,” Ryker says. “You’ll move into the ranch house with us.”
“Sonofa—” Aiden pouts, and I squeeze his hand.
“Hey, you’re fine, and that’s all that matters. If Sunflower had stomped on you—” My voice cracks, and I can’t complete the thought.
“Whoa, baby,” Ryker says and kisses my temple. “No going there. She didn’t, he’s going to be fine, and you can baby him for the rest of the summer.”
“Hey, Ry,” Aiden says, “we were talking about that time we all went to Disney World in the ambulance. Remember when Aunt Wills got sick after—Oh My God!”
The doctor took that opportunity to reset the shoulder, and I’m pretty sure Aiden just crushed my hand.
Ryker hisses behind me.
“That hurts so bad,” he whispers.
“You’ve had a dislocated shoulder?”
“Twice,” he confirms.
“You didn’t tell me!”
“No need to worry you, Trouble.”
“We are having a conversation when we get home, Captain.”
“Captain,” Dr. Ashby says with a nod. “I thought you looked familiar. You’re Ryker James.”
“Guilty.”
I feel Ry tense up. Normally he doesn’t mind talking with fans, but this isn’t a good time. Luckily, the doctor just nods and then goes about his business. At least he didn’t ask for an autograph.
Aiden wipes a tear from his cheek.
“It’s just a reaction to the pain,” he says, trying to talk all of us into believing that he wouldn’t cry.
“Of course it is.” I lean down and kiss his head. “I love you, buddy. I’m so sorry it hurts. We’ll take you home and get some good drugs in you, and you can rest.”
“Lame,” Aiden says, but he leans into my touch. There are moments when he’s still my little boy.
Finally, an hour later, after they’ve given him a full bag of fluids, cleaned his cuts and scrapes, wrapped the ankle, and put his arm in a sling, we can head home, armed with a few days’ worth of pain medicine so we don’t have to rush to the pharmacy. Ryker is careful to avoid bumps as he drives the truck, and it takes both of us to help Aiden inside and up the stairs, thanks to his twisted ankle.