Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
By the time I’m off my board and jogging toward her, she’s lying flat with a hand over her eyes, her mouth turned up in a grimace. Blood empties from her right foot unimpeded.
“Katy? Are you okay?” I ask as I drop my paddle and board to the sand beside her.
She looks up, and her eyebrows pinch together in surprise at my presence. “I… Yeah…I’m fine.”
“Interesting. That’s not usually the adjective I use to describe myself when I’m hemorrhaging blood.”
She swallows hard. “It’s n-no big deal.”
I squat down in front of her and gently reach out with my hand to steady her foot so I can take a look at it.
“Mack! It’s fine. I’m fine,” she tries to protest, pushing me away with her free hand, but I don’t stop my assessment of the injury.
The arch of her right foot is gashed straight up the center, the wound gaping more than I’d like, and I can even see pieces of seashell inside it.
“Katy, this is pretty deep, babe.”
She shuts her eyes. “I just need a Band-Aid.”
“A Band-Aid?” A shocked laugh jumps from my throat at that. “That’d be like trying to put a human condom on a horse schlong. I hate to tell you this, but you need stitches.”
“What?!” Her eyes pop back open immediately, aghast at my suggestion. “I do not need stitches from stepping on a seashell, for Pete’s sake! That’s absurd. I just need to go back to the condo and clean it up a little. It’ll be fine.”
With a wide arm and an even bigger show, she stares me down as she attempts to climb to her feet and prove it to me. Unfortunately for her, she can’t even make it past her knees without collapsing back to the sand.
“Katy, let me help,” I plead as gently as possible. The last thing I want to do is piss all over her pride, but all the dignity in the world won’t fix a laceration. “You need medical attention.”
“Mack, I don’t need help,” she snaps back. “Not yours or anyone else’s.”
And that’s when I decide to take action. I know from experience that Katy Dayton has the stamina to be difficult for just long enough to really harm herself. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that happen.
With her bitching in my ear the whole time, I reach down and slide my arms under her body and lift her off the ground, until I’m securely cradling her to my chest.
“Mack! Put me down! Seriously! What are you doing?”
“I’m taking you to the ER.”
“What? No! Oh my God, I don’t need to go to a hospital!” she refutes and even slaps her hand against my chest. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”
I pause in the middle of the sand to stare deep into her eyes. “Katy, I know this is scary and I know you’re in pain, but I need you to take a deep breath, okay? Just one big deep breath.”
She nods, and I don’t miss the way tears prick her eyes. Surprisingly, she even listens and forces one big inhale of oxygen in and out of her lungs.
“All I want to do is help you, okay?” I gently tap my forehead against hers. “That’s it. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Is it…is it that bad?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“You definitely need stitches and probably an antibiotic, but it’s going to be okay. I promise. Just a few stitches and you’ll be good to go.”
“Oh God,” she whimpers. “I really, really hate blood and hospitals and needles. Especially, I don’t know if I mentioned, the needles.”
I smile at her nervous blather—something I don’t think I’ve ever had the privilege of hearing from her—and promise her my best. “I’ll be with you the entire time.”
“You swear?” she asks. Seeing her this vulnerable makes my heart pound between the ribs in my chest.
“I swear,” I affirm without hesitation. “I won’t leave your side.”
“Okay.”
“Now, all I need you to do is not fight me as I try to carry you back to the condo,” I say through a soft but knowing smile, “so we can get something to wrap your foot with. You think you can manage that?”
“It’s not easy, but I’ll try.” Her voice is so small, but her sarcasm isn’t missed.
“I appreciate the effort, babe,” I answer with a quiet laugh as I lean down to grab her beach bag off the sand without setting her down and then book it toward the condo.
“What about everything else?” she asks, glancing over my shoulder, back toward the beach where her chair and my paddle and board still reside.
“We’ll get it later.”
“What if someone steals your paddleboard?”
“I’ll buy a new one.”
Her eyes meet mine for the briefest of moments, searching for something I can’t discern, but eventually, she looks back toward the walking path.