Roxanne Rustand - A Man She Can Trust

Ross slammed on his brakes and jerked the bike to the right. Skidded sideways. From far away he heard a heavy thud and someone screaming.

For one dizzying moment he felt as if he were weightless, spinning, disoriented. And then the ground rushed up to meet him.

THE HOSPITAL’S ONLY male nurse, Carl Miller, met Grace at the door of the E.R. “He’s in Room 3. Dr. Reynolds is with him right now.” He tipped his head toward the waiting room. “The girl who hit him is here, too, and her father is on the way. She’s pretty upset.”

Grace nodded and hurried down the hall, her damp shoes squeaking on the highly polished floor.

A heartbeat after she’d received the call, she’d grabbed her purse and coat without a thought for snow boots, gloves or scarf. Now, with snow melting inside her shoes and her hands tingling, she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to stop shaking. I never should have let him leave home like that. I should have made him sit down and talk.

But she knew just how far she would’ve gotten. She’d had him for over a week now, and still hadn’t made it past his sullen anger. He’d been less talkative with each passing day.

At the door of the room she said a silent prayer, then hid her worries behind a bright smile and stepped inside.

A bag of saline hung from the IV pole at the other side of the bed. No ventilator, though. Thank God. No frantic rushing to get the boy to surgery. And of the four doctors who had privileges at this hospital and could be on call today, Connor Reynolds and Jill Edwards were the very best.

Dr. Reynolds was bent over the bed with his stethoscope on Ross’s bare chest. He straightened at the sound of Grace’s squeaky shoes, a reassuring smile on his lean, handsome face. “Ross had a mishap, but he’s going to be fine.”

“Oh, my Lord,” she whispered. She hurried to the other side of the bed and ran her hands gently over Ross’s face, then his arms and chest.

The abraded, reddened areas over one cheekbone and his left arm would be deep purple by tomorrow. The sheet, drawn up to his waist, might hide more serious injuries, but so far, she could see no bandaging, no evidence of lacerations. “Are you okay, honey? What happened?”

Ross darted a wary look at her, his cheeks reddening. He closed his eyes and turned away. “Nothing.”

Did he expect her to be angry? She wanted nothing more than to gather him up in her arms and comfort him.

An impossibility, given the situation and his teenage pride.

Swallowing back her emotions, she gripped the side rail on the gurney. “He says this is nothing?” She looked up at Dr. Reynolds. “Tell me.”

“We’ve got a young man here who’s been rethinking his idea about biking in the winter. He was very lucky. Deputy Krumvald says the accident happened at an unmarked intersection, and it isn’t clear who was there first. The car hit his back tire and sent him about fifteen feet into heavy snow banked up along the street.”

“Thank God.”

“Still, that snow wasn’t exactly a feather pillow—those banks are hard-packed and crusted. He’s got some scrapes and bruises, and a light sprain in his left wrist.”

“X-rays?”

“He just came back. We took X-rays of the wrist, ran an MRI and some lab work. No sign of internal damage or a concussion, though I suspect he’ll be sore for a while. I recommend bandaging the wrist, a cold pack and elevation for a day. After that, just wrap it until it feels comfortable.” The doctor smiled. “I think the worst part of this for him was starting that IV.”

It had been placed immediately, Grace knew, in case there’d been a fast decompensation of Ross’s status. A rush to surgery. Something she dealt with frequently, even in this small hospital.

But now, with Ross lying in this bed, the fact that he was on an IV hit her hard. What if he’d been seriously injured? What if he’d—

She struggled to rein in her escalating emotions. “Thank you, Connor.”

“I’m glad I was here. So, buddy,” he said, resting a hand on Ross’s shoulder. “You’re one lucky guy. We’ll pull the IV and you can go home. Does a day off school sound like a good plan?”

Ross looked up at Connor, then his gaze veered toward Grace for an instant. “I guess.”

Carl appeared at the door. “There’s a young lady out here who’d like to see Ross,” he said in a low voice. “Her father is with her as well. Should I have them come back later?”

Connor shrugged. “I’m done here. If you want to take care of his IV and discharge instructions, he can leave. Ross, do you want to see this gal?”

Tucking the blankets up to his shoulders, Ross shook his head.

“Is this the driver of the car that hit him?” Grace frowned. “I’m not sure we’re in a position to talk about liability, yet.”

“The deputy was here a while ago to take a statement from Ross, and he got one from her a few minutes ago. She says she’s just worried about how Ross is doing.”

“Ross?” When he didn’t answer, Grace leaned closer. “If this is a girl from school, you’ll end up running into her anyway, so maybe this is best. Just don’t discuss any fault issues, ok?”

“I’m not stupid.”

She bit back the words she would have said if he’d been rude at home, then nodded to Carl. A few minutes later a blond teenager with cornflower-blue eyes and tear-streaked cheeks timidly stepped inside the door.

Her father, a burly, scowling man in his fifties, hovered at her shoulder. “So what’s the story, here? Doesn’t look too serious.”

Connor looked at Grace and raised a brow. She shook her head. They both knew what he was angling for—an admission that Ross was just fine and a quick, tidy resolution—but anyone in the profession knew that some injuries could show up later. Damage that could require long-term physical therapy.

“Well?” the man insisted.

“Daddy, please.” The girl moved tentatively to Ross’s side. “I hope you’re all right,” she said carefully, with a glance back at her father. She smiled tremulously at Ross. “I’m Mandy Welbourne. I’ve…um…seen you at school. I think we have third-hour algebra together.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and pulled the sheet up higher under his chin. “Uh…maybe.”

“If…you need to be out of school awhile, I could bring you your homework.”

“Mandy.” Her dad gripped her shoulder. “It’s time for us to go.”

She bit her lower lip, then twisted away from his grasp. “I just want you to know how sorry I am. Really. I didn’t see you at all and—”

“Mandy!” Her father glared her into silence then gave Ross a narrowed look. “The idea of someone riding a bicycle on those icy, rutted streets, with the wind kicking up a ground blizzard is incomprehensible. Absolutely incomprehensible. My daughter has suffered severe emotional trauma over this little incident.”

He guided his daughter out of the room with a firm hand at her back, and Grace could well imagine what the man was going to say to the poor child after they were out of earshot.

Connor seemed to think Ross would be fine, and maybe Ross and Mandy were both at fault for the accident. But if Welbourne thought he could bully a teenage boy into a fast resolution, he’d better think twice.

With Grace in Ross’s corner, the man didn’t stand a chance.

“IF YOU DO that one more time, you’re back in the cage.” Grant glared up at the rearview mirror and into Sadie’s unrepentant brown eyes.

A second later, her pink tongue slurped his right ear and she rested her long nose on his shoulder…then eased a little closer until her head was pressed firmly against his neck.