Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“Just stay there,” I instruct.
I don’t care if she thinks it sounds like an order and gets offended. It is an order and she’s goddamned going to follow it. She could be doing even more damage to her ankle by walking on it. She makes a humph sound, but she stays seated and when I come around to her side, she doesn’t object to taking my hands and letting me help her out of it.
She does object when I pick her up again, but I ignore her protests and carry her in through the conservatory and through the dining room.
“Alex, I’m fine to walk,” she says again.
“And I’m fine to carry you,” I reply.
She gets it finally that arguing this matter would be pointless so she sighs and rests her head against my chest. I hold her a little tighter as it suddenly hits me how much worse this could have been. I can’t stand the thought of even the smallest hurt for Cindy.
I go up the stairs and take her into my room. Tenderly, I lay her on the bed. She pushes herself up into a sitting position and although I would prefer her to stay on her back until she’s been checked over by Doctor Ivanov, I let her win this one.
“I’m going to call the doctor,” I say. “I know you think you’re fine, but it won’t hurt to get checked out.”
She shakes her head quickly. “Alex, seriously, it would be a complete waste of the doctor’s time. I am fine. I’ve twisted my ankle and bruised my shoulder and that’s it. I’m working class. You don’t call a doctor for that. You put an ice pack on the ankle, maybe a bandage. And that’s literally it.”
I really don’t like the idea of her not getting checked over just to be on the safe side, but deep down, I know she’s right. It doesn’t seem like she’s seriously hurt, and what’s Doctor Ivanov really going to do for her ankle that I can’t do myself? It’s like she said. He’ll put some ice on it for a time, and then he’ll bandage it. He might prescribe her some painkillers.
I decide to relent. I really don’t want us to fight right now. But I’ll be keeping a very close eye on Cindy and if her ankle isn’t any better by tomorrow, I’ll call the doctor whether she likes it or not. And at the first sign of a concussion, I’ll do the same.
I stand up and move to the telephone in the corner of my room.
“Alex, no,” Cindy says.
“Just relax. I’m not calling the doctor. You won this one. I’m just calling downstairs to get some ice and some bandages sent up.”
I speak to one of the staff and ask for what I need. Then I start pacing impatiently as I wait for the things to be brought to me.
“Will you stop that! You’re making me nervous,” Cindy says.
“Sorry. I can’t help it. I hate not being able to do anything. You don’t—” I stop and turn at the sound of a discreet knock on the door. One of the maids holds out the items I requested when I open the door. I thank her and go back to sit down beside Cindy.
I gently roll her leggings up and look at her ankle. It’s swollen and bruised, the skin shiny and a deep purple color. I wince when I see it. Cindy grins, peering down at it.
“It’s a corker of a bruise, isn’t it?” she comments happily.
“You’re not meant to sound happy about it,” I say with a frown.
I pick up the ice pack and lay it on her ankle.
She hisses, but before I can tell her, that’s it, I’m calling the doctor, she explains, “It didn’t hurt. It’s just cold. I got a shock, that’s all.”
I think she’s underplaying how much her ankle is hurting. Looking at the bruise, it must be hurting like hell, but I’m convinced now it’s not broken. Even if she was running on adrenaline earlier and walking though the break rather than be left outside, alone and injured, that adrenaline would have been long gone now and she wouldn’t be able to bear anything or anyone even touching her ankle.
I leave the ice pack in place for a few minutes while I unravel the bandage and get it sorted and ready to use. I gently lift the ice pack away and begin to bandage her foot.
She watches me for a moment. “You’re good at this.”
“I’ve patched up a lot of men with worse injuries when I was younger. I guess it’s something you don’t forget,” I say.
I finish up and Cindy smiles at me. “It feels so much better now it’s supported.”
“Good.” I smile at her. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Cindy. I should have been around.”