Bo clamped his eyes shut as Tara hurried out. He could blame the dull throb emanating from his leg. Or the headache that pulsed behind his eyes. Hindsight beat a path to his conscience. He’d given Mindy no reason to go out of her way. A good wage didn’t make up for not treating her right. He was a hothead. Just like his dad. For the first time in his twenty-nine years, he resolved to do something about it.
The following morning, a new nurse entered Bo’s room. She smoothed her scrubs, then did the same to her graying hair, which was pulled back in a big plastic clip. “Good morning, Mr. Michaels. My name is June. I’ll be caring for you until you’re released later today.” Both her tone and her movements were brisk. “I’ll start with wound care.”
Great. It was the thing Bo hated the most. Hydrogen peroxide on a cotton-tipped stick which was then dabbed around each of the five screws protruding from his leg. Three times a day.
June unwound the gauze from his leg. This created an awkward lull, since the process took several minutes. The other nurses always made conversation, distracting him from the discomfort that morphed into fiery pain. June remained quiet.
The silence grew like a mushroom cloud. Finally, Bo switched on the TV. He read the guide, which offered nothing that interested him. He finally settled on a pro football pre-game show. Bo sucked in a breath when the peroxide seeped into his wounds.
“I hear you totaled your sports car.” June’s pale green eyes flicked to his for a moment. Impeccable timing. Wait for the height of pain. Then add more by bringing up his misfortune.
Bo ignored the comment.
“I understand Tara Jones stopped to help.”
He nodded.
“You’re lucky you made it. She’s the last person I’d want to happen by if I was hurt.”
“Why is that?” He narrowed his eyes.
She shrugged and began the long process of wrapping his leg. “She’s not even out of nursing school.”
“I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for Tara.”
“I can see why you feel that way. You’re a man and she’s a real looker. But beauty’s deceptive.” She wagged her finger between him and the door. “I’ve seen her coming and going. You’d best keep an eye on your things.”
Irritated, Bo turned up the volume on the television while she made notes on the electronic tablet. His cell phone rang and his heart skipped a beat when he saw who it was. Nurse Ratched watched from the foot of the bed like an overzealous hall monitor. He turned down the TV. “Close the door on your way out.” She turned on her heel and left. He heard a quiet hmpff as the door closed. Twice in one day he’d held his tongue. Maybe there was hope for him.
“Hello.”
“Bo, Nicholas Blake. How are you?”
Bo deliberated how to answer. Put on a brave face, or be honest and let the chips fall where they may. He went with the latter. “I’ve been better. My leg is busted up and I’ve got a mini Bay Bridge screwed to my shin. But I’ll be discharged later today, instead of looking up at six feet of dirt.”
“Sure am glad to hear that. I was concerned when you missed our meeting and I couldn’t reach you.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“No apologies, please. Mindy explained. Gigi and I wondered if you’d be up to a visit.”
Bo was so surprised, he didn’t know what to say.
“You still there?” Nicholas asked.
“I’m here. Uh, sure, when do you think you’ll get here?” Would it be possible for him to stand up with his crutches long enough to shave? Or maybe someone could bring him a bowl of hot water, a razor and shaving cream.
“Actually, we’re right outside. I thought we should call before we barged in on you.” Nicholas chuckled. “Gigi made you some food. We can leave it with the staff if you need to rest.”
Bo raked a hand through his hair. “If you don’t mind that I’m a mess, you’re welcome to come in. Room 223.”
Gigi entered Bo’s room ahead of Nicholas. She wore a casual black dress that clung to her willowy figure and carried a small cooler. “I brought some food for when you get home.” She tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear. “What on earth?” Her eyes widened as she walked to the foot of Bo’s bed. “That looks painful.”
Nicholas took the cooler from Gigi and set it on a chair. He whistled through his teeth. “You weren’t kidding, Bo. It looks like the doc had some fun in the OR.” He peered intently at the fixator. “How are you doing?”
Bo grimaced. “Okay. The first night, I wished someone would put me out of my misery. Now the pain meds make it tolerable.” He took time to fill in the gaps about his ordeal.
“We didn’t intend to stay long, just wanted to check in. Hospitals aren’t any fun.” Nicholas shook Bo’s hand.
“It was nice of you to come by.” Bo tried to wrap his head around their visit. They weren’t friends. At least, that’s not how he’d thought of them up to this point. But this was the act of a friend. There was obviously more to the Blakes than met the eye.
Gigi came to his bedside. “I made chicken soup and a casserole.” She patted Bo’s hand. “I want you to let us know if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” Bo had only met Gigi one time. She’d been very warm, but he could think of no reason for her earnest expression and offer of help. That made him feel small.
Nicholas put his arm around Gigi. “Bo, I wasn’t overly impressed by the others who pitched for my project in Reno. Let me know when you’re back on your feet and we’ll give it another shot.”
Gigi looked up at her husband. “Nicholas, I told you, no business.”
“I know, honey. But I’m sure he’s been sweating it and that won’t help him heal.” He glanced at Bo. “I’ll check in with you next week.”
Taken aback, Bo said, “I don’t know what to say, Mr. Blake. Thank you.”
“That works just fine.”
Tara looped the handle of Bo’s duffel over that of the suitcase and wheeled them into the hospital. Her insides squirmed at the thought of seeing him for the last time before he went home. She’d replayed their conversation about Mindy over and over in her mind. Bo had good reason to be ill tempered. His car was wrecked, his assistant gone, and his injury extensive and painful. But knowing that didn’t quell her anxiety.
When Tara got to Bo’s half-open door, she heard people talking. She didn’t want to upset him again by interrupting. The room had plenty of space near the door for his bags. If she secreted them inside, what harm would it do? Bo would have his things. Tara would be able to breathe again. And they could both get on with their lives. Christmas was coming. There were cookies to make, lights to hang, bills to pay. The weight of that last thing threatened to break her in two. Back to the matter at hand ... Make a stealth delivery or say a proper goodbye?
“What are you doing?” A sharp voice demanded.
Tara jumped. “Uh ... I’m dropping these off.” As the woman marched toward her, the knots in Tara’s stomach doubled in size. When had June Fixmer started working here?
“Are you stealing from Mr. Michaels?”
“What?”
“Give those to me. Now get out, before I call security.”