“Yes, sir,” I turn my attention to my breakfast and try not to gag while eating. Once—just once—it would be nice for my mom to make something else.
“Oh, and I need you to make a couple of stops today when you go into town,” my dad says, without even looking up.
“I wasn’t planning on going into town today.” I cover my eggs with salt and pepper, hoping to give them a new flavor. I hate the taste of scrambled eggs. Ever since I was a kid, I always would use Ketchup or hot sauce but nowadays my mom is on a ‘natural’ kick to lower my dad’s cholesterol.
“Well then change your plans. I need something from Sam’s store and I don’t feel like driving so I need you to go pick it up.”
Seriously, I must look like a puppet to my dad. I’ve already given up so much to please him but I guess it’s not enough that I put my life on hold to take over the family farm, now I have to run his errands too?
“Yes, sir,” I concede and choke down my food so that I can get back to work. It’s pointless to argue with him. At this rate, I’m going to be fifty years old and still answering to my dad.
The day passes by just like any other. There are still a couple of hours before dinner so I decide to pick up whatever my dad needed before Sam’s store closes. I hop into the old white truck that we use just for farm business, turn the music up and roll down the windows. This is the most relaxed I’ve been in some time.
Minutes later, I pull into the old plaza. Years ago, I remember coming here and there was a store in every outlet but not anymore. Now it’s just Sam’s hardware store and a small dollar store a few doors down. I don’t even waste time parking in a spot, I just park right in front of the store, along the curb and jump out. Pulling open the door, an old bell that sounds like it’s on its last leg chimes—if that’s what you want to call it.
Sam is sitting behind the counter as if he was waiting for me. I plaster on a smile and greet him with my arm extended and shake his hand. “Look at you, Dean. Ain’t you growin’ into a fine young man? And that grip you got.” He shakes my hand and I can tell the frail old man is trying to grip as hard as he can.
“Good to see you too, Sam. My dad said that he called in an order to you earlier?” I rest my hands on the glass showcase counter next to the register. I look around at the old, dusty store. I think it’s nearly as old as Sam is and that’s old!
I’ve been coming to Sam’s for as long as I can remember, weekend errands always included a trip to the hardware store. Now that the bigger stores are just a few towns over and Sam’s place is becoming a little run down--okay, more than a little--he’s good people and as long as he’s around I’ll continue to give him business. I’m sure if I didn’t, my dad would have my ass.
Sam slowly walks out of the back room with what looks like an empty plastic bag in his hand. I meet him half way and take the bag from him. I open it up and then look back at Sam inquisitively.
“Yep, that’s all he wanted was a box of nails.” He shrugs and walks behind the counter.
I pull my wallet out and hand him a ten dollar bill.
He holds his hand up and refuses. “No, Dean, your dad already paid for it.”
I sigh and put the money back in my wallet. He places his fingers on the brim of his tattered, black cowboy hat that I’ve been seeing him in for years, gives a nod and I return the gesture. When he turns to walk into the back room again, I place the money on the register.
“Thanks Sam, I’ll see you soon.” I call out over my shoulder before leaving.
I’m livid. Livid that my ass of a dad sent me all the way into town to get a fucking box of nails when we probably have at least twenty boxes of various sizes in the shed.
I grumble and twist the bag into a ball. Pulling the truck door open, I toss the bag into the passenger seat and slam the door. I hit my palms against the steering wheel and curse under my breath. I can’t believe I had to stop working to pick up a box of nails.
I take off my University of Tennessee Volts cap and blow out a deep breath and run my hand through my hair before slipping my cap back on. I pull out of the parking lot in front of Sam’s and that’s when it happens in the blink of an eye. I slam on the brakes but it’s too late.
Pain radiates though my body. I open my eyes to find myself hunched over the steering wheel. What the fuck?
I wince and sit back, pulling the seat belt that is cutting into my neck away. I look down to see my white shorts are now splattered with blood. Shit! My favorite shorts!
“Miss? Are you okay Miss?” I hear a faint voice in the distance.
Do I look okay, asshole?
“I just called 911, they should be here soon. Are you okay?”
A tall, dark man has his hands cupped around his eyes and his face pressed against my window. I unbuckle myself and reach for the handle. He steps back to allow room for me to open the door. Pushing the door open with my foot, the sound of scraping metal fills my ears. I close my eyes tight and breathe deeply.
This seriously cannot be happening.
“Maybe you should stay in the car until help arrives ma’am.” His southern drawl makes my ears bleed.
Ignoring him, I brace my hand on the steering wheel and the seat, pulling myself up and out of the car. My legs are shaky and my once perfect hair is now a disheveled mess. I brush it away from my face and narrow my eyes. If looks could kill, this guy would be a dead man.
“Oh, thank God you’re okay,” he places his hands on his chest and exhales with relief.
I grit my teeth and lean against the mangled car.
“Do I look okay to you, asshole? What the fuck were you thinking? Are you so fucking blind that you didn’t see the bright red car coming?” I throw my hands in the air and wince, my hand hurts and my head is throbbing.
He chuckles and steps towards me, but I put my hand up to stop him getting too close. “I’m sorry but I think you’re a little confused. Yes, I did see you coming but you’re the one that ran the red light. Not me. “
My eyes widen. I can’t believe this asshole actually thinks the accident was my fault! I throw my head back and laugh, ignoring the pain. “You’ve got to be kidding me! I saw the light and it was clearly yellow but I was going too fast to slow down. That is perfectly legal. You’re the one who hit me. This is your fault!” I all but shout back.
He’s about to open his mouth but closes it quickly as a police cruiser and an emergency vehicle close in—their sirens deafening in the otherwise quiet street. I look to the man and see his mouth moving but I can’t hear anything he says—thank fuck!
“You really shouldn’t move. You’re bleeding.” He leans in close enough so that I’m able to hear him over the sirens.
No shit, Captain Obvious!
Before I can reply I’m gripped by strong hands and placed on a gurney. I lay my head on the soft bed and close my eyes.
This is just my luck!
“Ma’am, we’re going to take you to the hospital. Your injuries don’t look too extensive but better safe than sorry.”
I pry my eyes open and look at the woman next to me, dabbing the blood from my forehead.
“I’m fine. I just want to go back to my hotel room and forget this all happened.” I try to sit up but I’m quickly pushed back down.
“No can do, ma’am.” I turn to see a very young—and hot—guy next to me. I watch as he walks to the end of the gurney and lifts me into the ambulance. “We need to take you in and an officer will be by shortly to take your statement.”
I groan with frustration. Not only are my new clothes ruined but so is the rental. This asshole who hit me better pay up!
“I swear this wasn’t my fault, Sir.” I say defensively as John walks over to me.
I’ve had run-ins with the cops more times than I’d like to recall, and it’s always John O’Malley who seemed to show up. We used to have the best bonfires, Austin’s older brother would usually buy us a 12-pack and we would sit around and talk. Harmless fun but John ruined it for
us every damn time.
I can’t even count how many times I was driven home in the back of his squad car. My dad couldn’t have cared less, but my mom always turned as white as a ghost and hugged me until I couldn’t breathe. I hated that I scared her that much but hell, I was a kid.
“Get in the car, boy. I’ll take you to the hospital and take your statement there. You can call your parents on the way if you’d like.” John takes me by the arm but I pull it away and walk to the passenger side. He shakes his head. “Oh no, you’re in the back. Ain’t nobody ridin’ up front with me.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong!” I rest my arms on the hood of the car. And why’s he talking to me like I’m a kid? I wish people around here would start taking me seriously.
John ignores me and opens the back door; I sigh in defeat and slide in. Riding in the back seat brings back so many memories. I miss my friends. Sure, some are still around but it’s not like we hang out anymore. I sit back in the hard, leather bound seats and pull out my phone. I’m dreading making this call because I know I’ll be blamed, regardless of what actually happened. John buckles his seat belt, adjusting it so that it fits around his large round stomach. He takes the CB radio out of the holster and calls into the central office.
I bite the inside of my cheek nervously and stare out the window as we speed down the dirt roads that I’ve traveled so many times before. Minutes later, we pull up outside the hospital. I wait impatiently as John takes his time coming around and opening the door for me.
Stepping aside, I let John go through the sliding double doors while I take my phone out of my pocket to call my parents. I pace back and forth with the phone to my ear, praying that my mom answers.
“Hello?” My dad says gruffly into the phone.
“Uh, hi, Dad.”
“Boy, where are you? You should have been back almost an hour ago. I called Sam and he said you had left already.”
“Well, there’s kind of been an accident—” he cuts me off before I can finish.
“What did you do now, Dean? You had one simple task and that was to go to Sam’s and come back.”
Of course he would think this is my fault, but then again so did Barbie. She definitely isn’t from around here—I can tell by her northern accent—but damn, I saw her nice, long legs when she stepped out of the car and those shorts… man. I wonder if she’s as sweet as she looks? I’d sure be willing to find out… just as long as she keeps her mouth shut.
“Dean?” My dad snaps into the phone, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Yeah Dad, I’m here. Listen, I’m at the hospital. John drove me because my truck had to be towed. The person I hit had to be brought in. I’ll be giving my statement and then I can leave, but do you think you and Mom could come pick me up?”
“I knew this was your fault. Please tell me you didn’t kill nobody?”
I roll my eyes. “No Dad, I didn’t kill anyone. I think she’s going to be fine but she had to be brought in. Her head was bleed—”
He interrupts me once again. “You hit a girl? Dammit, Dean!” He covers the phone and I can hear him talking to my mom. She gasps loudly, typical of my mom to overreact. “We’ll be up there soon. Stay with John.”
“Yes, s—” My dad hangs up before I can respond. I slide my phone into my pocket and walk into the hospital. I spot John and he pats the empty seat beside him.
“I take it that was your folks?” He asks as he pulls small notepad from the pocket of his shirt.
“Yeah, they don’t seem too happy. Can we just get this over with before they get here, please?”
He pulls a pen out of his pocket and clicks it a couple of times, before starting to write down my basic information. It’s sad that John can fill in all of these details without even asking me.
No sooner do I finish giving my statement when my parents walk in. I look up when the sliding doors open and my mom frantically runs in, halts and looks in all directions. When she spots me, she doesn’t waste any time getting to me and wrapping me in a hug. I look over her shoulder to see my dad taking his time, a grim expression on his face.
“Dean, are you okay?” She cups my cheeks and looks me up and down.
I shrug out of her grasp. “I’m fine, Ma. Didn’t Dad tell you that I just had to give my statement?”
She shakes her head no and straightens to give my dad a death glare. He shrugs his shoulders and walks around her to greet John. They shake hands and talk as if it’s just a normal day.
We’re interrupted by a nurse calling for John. My heart thuds in my chest. Barbie.
“Hi, Sheriff O’Malley, we have the patient in triage. She’s slightly out of it. We gave her some medication to help with the pain, but I think you’ll be okay to take her statement. We’re going to release her if her test results come back okay.” She eyes him up and down with a satisfied smile. They probably know each other. Hell, we pretty much all know each other. It’s the curse of living in a small town.
John grunts his answer and excuses himself before following the nurse. I start off towards the exit, but my mom grabs my elbow. “Where do you think you’re going?”
My brows furrow. “We can go home now. I gave my statement to John, and he said he’ll call and keep us updated.”
“Oh no you don’t, son. We’re staying until this girl is released. I want to make sure everything is okay.” She pulls me back to the waiting area. I look at my dad and silently plead for help. I want nothing more than to go home, shower and go to bed. But he just shakes his head at me and picks up a magazine as if he has nothing better to do.
Pain emanates through my body. I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mac truck but I couldn’t be so lucky. Instead I was hit by some asshole in a sad excuse for a truck.
“Ms. Andrews?”
I pry my eyes open when I hear my name being called. I look up to see a nurse pulling back the curtain to my bay, an officer by her side. A man with the large round pot belly waddles in and pulls a chair up next to my bed. I wince when I try to move.
“Just stay where you are. You’ve been given some medication to help with the pain but it’s probably wearing off. I’m afraid we can’t give you anymore just yet. We need you awake and alert.”
I roll my eyes and shift in the bed. The thin fabric of the blanket scratches my bare legs. The nurse notices me shivering and pulls the blanket up, tucking it under my chin.
The officer flips through the pages of his small notepad and starts writing. When he looks at me, his dark brown eyes look like melted chocolate and my stomach growls. I place my IV free hand over my stomach and groan.
The nurse presses some buttons on the machine next to me. “Don’t worry, after Sheriff O’Malley takes your statement, we’ll bring some food for you,” she assures me, before leaving the room, pulling the curtain closed behind her.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long to give him my statement. Basically, it went like this—I went to get food, and was hit by the guy with the annoying voice—done! Hell, they all had annoying voices here but his is especially annoying.
As promised, I was brought a tray of food, but none of it was appetizing. I’d rather gnaw off my hand then eat the piece of rubber they call ‘chicken’ placed in front of me.
I was finishing the last of the Jell-O when the doctor walks in with a nurse by his side. She is young, probably around my age, and looks just like a girl I went to high school with.
“Ms. Andrews?” The doctor greets me with a southern drawl. “We’ve gone over your x-rays and labs, and everything seems to be fine.” He leans against the bed railing and flips through my chart. “We’re getting your discharge papers together now. Is there anyone you’d like us to call to pick you up?”
Shit! What am I supposed to do now? My mom is going to freak when I call her, but never mind that. I’m supposed to start work in two days and I still have to call the insurance company and get a new rental. The doctor must see the panic on my face, he closes my chart and rests his
hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. You have some stitches that will need to be taken out in about a week. You also have a hairline wrist fracture, which is why you have the brace. That will have to stay on for at least a month.” I glance down at my covered wrist and let out a frustrated breath. “So… is there someone you’d like us to call to come and pick you up?”
“No. I just moved here so I’m staying at the Kingston Suites. I start work on Monday so I need to get back there.” I sit up and look for my belongings. I hope they got everything out of the car. I need my things, and go back to the hotel and sleep this off.
“Ms. Andrews, though your injuries aren’t extensive, I’d like you to stay off your feet until we can see you again. You’ll probably experience some headaches so I’ve prescribed some medication and also another one for the pain, but if your vision blurs or if the headaches persist I’ll need to see you right away.” He takes a business card out of his pocket, “I’m just an on-call physician. My practice is in the building next to the hospital. I’d like to see you for a follow-up appointment and to take the stitches out a week from Monday. The discharge nurse will make your appointment. I hope there is someone that is able to stay with you. You will probably need to be woken up throughout the night just to make sure everything is okay.”
“Yes, I have someone to help me,” I lie. There’s no way I’m staying a few nights in the hospital.
He reaches out to shake my hand. “Perfect. Take care, Ms. Andrews and we’ll see you soon.” I shake his hand weekly and give him a faint nod.
Nine days. Nine days of feeling miserable. Nine days of not doing what I want. Nine days of…
As if on cue, another nurse walks in with a clipboard and a pen. This small space is entirely too small for the four of us and I’m starting to feel claustrophobic.
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