To his surprise, she shook her head quickly, holding her hand up to him. “No, please stay here.”
Seeing her sitting there looking so vulnerable and those big eyes practically pleading, he reminded himself she was on a strong narcotic. Just because her family wasn’t nearby and she was asking him to stay close wasn’t an invitation to take care of her. So why did it feel like it, but most alarmingly, why the hell was he hoping it was?
Already, he’d had every intention of getting her the care she needed and of making sure she got home okay. Hearing she lived alone with no close family made him wonder how she’d manage if her foot was broken.
This had to stop.
He walked back slowly to where he’d been standing previously but said nothing. The doctor finally came in after Lansing finished with all his questions, taking her vitals, and icing her foot.
A couple of hours later, after a thorough examination then waiting for an X-ray to be taken then more waiting, the morphine had worn off, and Ms. Brady was no longer woozy and smiling silly. But she did have one request that made Brandon wonder if it was still the morphine talking. “Will you call me Regina, please? Ms. Brady sounds so formal.” He nodded, but he refused to say it until he had to. “What’s your first name?”
He stared at her for a moment, taking a long slow breath. He should’ve left when she offered him the opportunity. He knew he’d regret this and already was. “Brandon,” he said finally.
She smiled, taking in his name. “May I call you that?”
“No” was his immediate response.
Her expression should’ve had him suppressing a smile; instead, he swallowed hard, feeling a bit panicked. He’d seriously f**ked up by still being here with her.
“Okay, Regina,” the doctor said, pulling the curtain aside.
That curtain was the only thing that separated Ms. Brady’s bed from the one next to her in the emergency room, and it still felt too intimate for Brandon. She’d told him it was okay if he wanted to sit on the bed next to her, but he’d passed. Just being here with her this long was a mistake. Sitting next to her on her bed would be too damn cozy.
“Well, the good news is it looks as if there are no broken bones,” the doctor informed them as she placed the X-ray up on the lighted board. “But your ankle is badly sprained with a few stretched ligaments. So you’ll have to wear an air splint for a week, maybe two, to keep the ankle immobile and make sure you don’t further stretch those ligaments.”
“Immobile?” Ms. Brady asked, sitting up straighter. “Does that mean I can’t go to work? I really need to be there.”
“It means you really should stay off your ankle as much as possible.” The doctor turned back to look at Ms. Brady. “What kind of work do you do?”
“Office work,” Ms. Brady said quickly. “I’m a structural engineer, and we’re in a middle of a big project, but I’d be mostly sitting all day in front of the computer, on the phone, in meetings—that kind of stuff—all off my feet.”
The doctor gave Ms. Brady a knowing look, picking up on the fact that she seemed to be trying to convince her. Then she brought her attention back to the lighted board with the X-ray on it and pointed at the area in question. “See that?” She turned back and winced at Ms. Brady. “Those stretched ligaments are causing all the pain. You don’t wanna mess with those. If you rupture or tear one completely, that pain will be so much worse, and it’ll take a lot longer to heal. You really shouldn’t be putting any pressure on it, and driving alone will do that. But,” she shrugged, “I know what it’s like to have to be at work. I’d suggest you at least take one full day to stay off it completely before going back. When you do, make sure that you really are mostly sitting and try to keep it elevated as much as possible.”
Ms. Brady nodded, and Brandon felt something else he shouldn’t be feeling—relief. He shouldn’t care one way or the other if she followed her doctor’s orders or not. Just because he knew the doctor was right—she should stay off her ankle and for much longer than just a day—it shouldn’t be his concern.
The doctor examined her ankle again, feeling around to make sure where exactly the stretched ligaments were before adding the dressing and air splint. After all that, Ms. Brady was in pain again. They gave her another dose of the morphine, which took effect immediately.
“It’s a good thing it’s late because you’ll go home and will sleep like a baby.” The doctor smiled as she finished administering the medicine into Ms. Brady’s saline lock.
The doctor left, and Lansing was back in within minutes to remove the saline lock and give Ms. Brady the prescription the doctor had written up for her pain medicine.
“These are extra,” he handed her a few packets, “in case you can’t get to the pharmacy until tomorrow. You’ll probably be in pain in the morning when this stuff wears off.”
Ms. Brady smiled goofily, taking them from him. “Thank you, Rob. That’s so thoughtful of you.” She reached out and squeezed Rob’s forearm. “You’re a very sweet guy. I meant to ask you earlier. Are you married?”
Lansing smiled, looking as surprised at her question as Brandon felt irritated by it. “No, actually I’m not.”
He glanced back at Brandon, who stared him down hard. If the guy had half a brain, he’d give Ms. Brady her release papers and leave fast. He may know Brandon wasn’t her husband and that she’d referred to him as just someone who worked in the same building, but the guy had to know there was more to Brandon’s interest in being here. No guy, unless he was out of his mind, would walk into that emergency room and demand things like he had then spend all these hours waiting with a girl he barely knew. The last time Brandon had checked he was a sane man. So as much as he hated to admit it, the fact that he was still standing here already anxious to get her out of there so he could have her all to himself again, had all kinds of internal sirens going off—sirens this guy better damn well be hearing too.