Touching the swollen area around her ankle very carefully, he saw that no bones seemed to be protruding like some of the uglier ankle injuries he’d witnessed out in the field. “It might just be sprained. Did you hear anything crack when you twisted it?” He looked up at her. That bewilderment was still in her eyes, and he swallowed hard trying his damnedest not to react inappropriately to it.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so, but it happened so fast.”
He brought his eyes back to her foot. He had to. Looking into those big innocent eyes was breaking his will to fight the urge to speak more freely to her. Lowering her foot gently, he stood up.
“There’s no way you’ll be driving tonight. And you really need to get this X-rayed to know for sure. Stay here.” He started towards the door, but he saw the look of apprehension on her face, so he turned back to her and for some reason was compelled to smile. “I’ll be right back.”
He knew that bewildered expression would make an appearance, and as pissed at he was at himself for weakening so fast and giving in just to see it, it had been totally worth it.
Shaking off the alarming thoughts, he hurried toward the golf cart still parked on the side of the building. Technically, he had to check it out if he ever needed to use one, but he hadn’t checked it back in today after using it all day. Since he’d gotten back so late today, he planned on doing so in the morning.
In less than a couple of minutes, he had it parked at the building’s front door. He jumped out and hurried through it, already looking forward to having her in his arms again.
This was not good.
He found her squeezing her eyes shut, her face scrunched in agony.
“It’s hurts that bad?”
She nodded but said nothing as he knelt down to look at her ankle again. The swelling was getting worse. He grabbed her bag with one hand.
“Okay, let me help you stand on your good foot,” he said, holding her elbow. She rose from her seat slowly, wobbling as she leaned into him. “I got you,” he assured her as he brought his arm around her small waist, holding her firmly.
Once she was all the way up, he bent down to bring his arm under her knees again as he had earlier. “Put your arms around my neck.”
She did, and just like earlier, he inhaled her blissful scent. He knew with her foot dangling it had to make the pain worse, and she buried her face in his neck, gasping. He held her tighter in hopes of keeping her foot from moving too much. Walking backwards, he pushed the glass door open with his back, careful not to hit her foot against it as he swung her around and walked through it.
He’d never actually been in combat, but in his day, he’d been through plenty of drills where he had to carry a fellow soldier in full combat gear for long grueling sessions. Ms. Brady felt so tiny and delicate he could hold her like this forever, as small as she was in comparison. The scent of her hair alone and the feel of her soft but firm body pressed against his was incentive enough to hold her as long as he could. It was actually a disappointment to have to set her down in the golf cart, but he did so gently and slowly.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he watched her slowly and apparently very painfully lower her foot to the floor of the cart.
Again she nodded without saying a word as if words alone might make it hurt more. “We’ll get you some pain killers in a little bit. The base hospital isn’t too far.”
Setting her purse down in the back of the cart, he rushed around to the driver’s side and jumped in. Brandon was almost glad she didn’t seem to be in a mood to talk. He already felt too close to giving into what he’d previously said was out of the question, getting to know her a little more by asking generic questions that could be construed as perfectly innocent inquiries in a situation like this. Asking her if she had anyone that could come pick her up for example would be entirely acceptable. Knowing there were other reasons he wanted to know and that there shouldn’t be, he refrained from asking.
“I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, Sergeant Billings,” she said softly. “Once you get me to the hospital, I can call someone so you can leave.”
Someone? Like Antonio? “I had no further plans for the rest of this evening, Ms. Brady,” he said, looking straight ahead. “I can take you home. You won’t be able to drive tonight. That’s for sure, maybe not even for a few days.”
She groaned, shaking her head and squeezing her eyes closed again.
“Is the pain getting worse?” he asked, looking down at her swollen ankle.
“No.” She sighed. “It’s not that. I mean, yeah, it still hurts, but not any worse. It just hadn’t even dawned on me that I might not be able to drive for days. I had a major breakthrough today at work and planned on being very busy the next few days.”
Brandon glanced over just in time to catch her frowning face. It was so sweet he had to look away. He might’ve smiled again if what that adorable expression did to him didn’t scare the hell out. “Well, maybe they’ll tell you otherwise,” he offered as solace, staring straight ahead. “If it’s not broken and you ice it enough tonight, you might be able to put a little pressure on it by tomorrow.”
She sighed heavily, and he dared not look her way for fear she might be making another expression that might have him sighing too. This was getting ridiculous. Already, he was having unacceptable thoughts and visions of things that were completely inappropriate.
They reached the emergency room, and he drove right up to the entrance. “Stay here,” he said as he rushed in.
He was able to quickly acquire a wheelchair and brought it out then helped her out of the cart. Trying not to put too much thought on how tightly she wrapped her arms around his neck, he abstained from holding her just as tightly. He did, however, allow himself to indulge in her scent again. As he lowered her onto the seat, he glanced up just as she loosened her hold on him and froze when he realized he was close enough to taste those lips. She stared at him for a moment as he stood there bent over, unbelievably tempted at that most inopportune moment to kiss her.
“You okay?” he asked, still not moving away.
She nodded, continuing to hold his gaze.
He swallowed hard because this was so unlike him and because he knew once this night was over he’d be regretting this. Finally he moved away. Handing her the purse from the back seat of the golf cart, he came around the back of the chair and began pushing her inside the emergency room. As much as he knew he should take her up on her offer to call someone else, he wasn’t ready to leave her side just yet. Damn, he was going to regret this tomorrow.
Already, he regretted having met with his original drill instructor last weekend. Brandon hated to admit it, but unlike anyone, Sergeant Taft held a special place in his heart. Taft had been the one who straightened Brandon’s ass out in the first place. As far as Brandon was concerned, Taft was the reason why he hadn’t dropped out those first few punishing weeks of boot camp when he’d considered doing so on more than one occasion. He was also Brandon’s inspiration and why he’d become a drill instructor in the first place. For those reasons, he kept the man at bay. It’d be too easy to start to feel an emotional attachment to this friend. Brandon didn’t make emotional attachments. He made no exceptions. But when Taft heard Brandon would be in California, he invited him to his home for dinner with his wife.
Feeling too duty-bound to a man he held in such high esteem, he’d accepted, but the thought of getting too close scared the hell out of him. The now semi-retired Sergeant and his wife had been so pleasant and welcoming. They even insisted now that Brandon was based in California he visit more often and said they’d be visiting him too. Brandon had regretted the visit the moment he’d walked out of their home. Just like then, he knew he’d be regretting this entire night by tomorrow morning, possibly even sooner. So why the hell wasn’t he walking away yet?
The emergency room was busy, but they still got in fast.
“Just wheel her over behind that second curtain on your right.?
?? The nurse pointed as Brandon started wheeling her in that direction. “There’ll be someone in there to take all her information in a few minutes. You can help your wife onto the bed. The doctor will be with her shortly after they’ve taken her vitals.”
She walked away before either of them could explain the misunderstanding. Brandon and Ms. Brady exchanged glances as her cheeks shaded with slight color.
Without a word, Brandon continued to wheel her over to the bed the nurse had pointed to. When they reached it, Ms. Brady attempted to stand on her own, holding the end of the bed and the arm of the chair. “Let me help you,” he quickly offered, pulling her arm around his neck.
Grabbing on to him, she hopped toward the bed that was a bit high for her, so he lifted her by the waist. Again their faces came just inches from each other. Thankfully, just as they’d been caught in another staring contest, someone cleared his throat loudly just behind Brandon, snapping them out of it.
A young man held a clipboard and smiled broadly then pulled a pen out of his front pocket. “Good evening.” He spoke quickly, holding the clipboard in front of him. “I’m Rob, and you are Mrs. Brady, right?”
“It’s Ms.” She corrected him politely. “I’m not married, and you can call me Regina.”
Rob looked up at her then at Brandon, his eyebrows furrowing. “Oh, I’m sorry, Regina.” He looked back down on his clipboard and wrote something. “The nurse out front said you were here with your husband.”
Ms. Brady glanced at Brandon, her poignant eyes looking even more innocent as he saw how she tried to hide the pain she was feeling. She quickly brought her attention back to Rob. “No, um.” She winced now, unable to hide it anymore. Brandon had had his share of sprained ankles and ligament injuries, and he knew how painful they could be. “I guess she just assumed,” she continued, pressing her lips together for a moment. “This is Sergeant Billings. We work in the same building where I fell. He was there when it happened and was kind enough to help get me here.”
Rob and Brandon’s eyes met for a second before Rob turned back to Ms. Brady. “Ah, I see. Okay, well, now that we got that straight, I need to get a little more information from you before we start with your vitals.” He looked down at her ankle. “Yep, that’s pretty swollen. It might even be broken.”
“Can you get her some painkillers first?” Brandon spoke up, knowing firsthand how long this could take.
“I can,” Rob said, his brow lifting without looking up, “but I need to get some info from her first.”
Brandon looked down at Rob’s ID. Corporal Robert Lansing—ER. The fact that this young corporal hadn’t referred to him as sir was enough to piss Brandon off. He’d never tolerated that kind of disrespect, but the fact that the asshole didn’t even bother to look at him when he addressed him and that he’d used a condescending tone was more than Brandon would tolerate.
“Do you have a supervisor, Corporal Lansing?”
Immediately, he had both Ms. Brady’s and Lansing’s attention.
Chapter Nine
Lansing stared at Brandon wide-eyed. “Yes, I do.”
“Yes, I do, what?” Brandon raised his voice just slightly, but there was no masking his signature drill instructor demanding tone.
Lansing stood up a little straighter, blinking a little faster. “Yes, I do, sir.”
“Then I suggest you go get him or her in here now.”
“He, uh, he’s not here tonight, sir.” Lansing glanced back at Ms. Brady and down at her ankle again. “But, uh, I apologize for any disrespect. I assure you there was none intended, and, uh, I can get her those painkillers no problem. I just—”
“No excuses, Lansing. Ms. Brady is in a lot of pain. Go get them now.”
“Yes, sir,” Lansing said, nodding at Brandon and then at Ms. Brady.
“I still want your supervisor’s name,” Brandon informed him coldly.
“Yes, sir,” the corporal said again before walking away in a hurry.
The only reason he let him off the hook and didn’t demand he get one of his higher ups, anyone, was because getting Ms. Brady her pain medicine took precedence at that moment. But he had every intention of speaking with Lansing’s supervisor.
Brandon turned back to Ms. Brady. She was staring him wide-eyed.
“Are you really gonna get him in trouble?” she asked, her brows coming together suddenly. “For not moving fast enough?”
This time the little princess’s glare was not quite as amusing. He didn’t expect her to understand, and he wouldn’t bother to explain himself, but it was still annoying as shit that she’d question him. The Marine code of honor and respect was not something you explained. It was something instilled in you by living it. “I said I’d be speaking with his supervisor. It’s up to his supervisor to decide whether or not he’ll be in trouble, but if he were my subordinate, there certainly would be repercussions.”
“Repercussions for what? He did nothing wrong.”
Lansing walked to Ms. Brady’s side swiftly. “I’ll attach a saline lock to your hand in case you need more pain medicine again. That way I won’t have to keep poking you, and the relief will be instantaneous.”
Ms. Brady smiled at Lansing and thanked him profusely for doing what he should’ve done the moment he’d seen the size of her swollen ankle and how much pain she was in. As he worked on getting the saline lock taped to her hand, he asked her quickly about any allergies or reactions to morphine and if she was by any chance pregnant to which she interestingly answered, “Absolutely not.” These were the questions Lansing indicated earlier that would take far more time to get to. “Now you’re going to feel a little woozy, Ms. Brady, maybe even a little like you’re drunk or high. Morphine is, after all, a narcotic, so expect some dizziness and even confusion, but don’t worry. It’s all normal.”
Nodding, Ms. Brady closed her eyes as he inserted the needle in the vein on the top of her hand. Brandon watched her strained expression as Lansing began administering the medicine through the saline lock. Slowly the still-pained expression began to ease as the morphine began to take effect.
“The relief will be almost immediate,” Lansing reminded her cautiously.
Yeah, no shit. That’s why he should’ve given it to her a long time ago.
“Be careful not to move your ankle, though.” Lansing warned. “Just because it won’t hurt to do so anymore, doesn’t mean you should. It’s still injured, and moving it might make it worse.”
After a few moments, she glanced over at Brandon, a silly smile spreading across her face and her eyes already drooping a little. “I feel better already,” she said with a slight slur.
Brandon nodded at her but said nothing and certainly didn’t offer any smiles. He knew all too well from his own past injuries and those of many of his recruits what morphine could do to you—make you feel. He didn’t want to encourage any such behavior from her now that, given the circumstances, Lansing had probably given her a big fat dose of the stuff.
Lansing went back to what he’d begun to do before Brandon had demanded the pain medicine for Ms. Brady. In hindsight, Brandon understood a little now why Lansing had wanted to get all the information he collected now from her before shooting her up with the pain meds. Getting straight and coherent answers from Ms. Brady in this inebriated and confused state of mind took a lot longer than it would have if he’d done so before. Still she was out of pain now, and that’s all that mattered.
Listening quietly as she answered all the pertinent questions, Brandon took note of some of the answers that shouldn’t interest him but annoyingly did. She wasn’t married or living with anyone. Her emergency contacts were her parents, who lived more than an hour away in one direction, and her sister, who lived a half hour in the opposite direction. She was twenty-seven, and the only medication she was on was one she said was for anxiety, but she hadn’t taken it in weeks. He noticed how she lowered her voice when answering that and a few other more personal questions, such as she just finished h
er menstrual cycle and she had been pregnant once but never full term. She’d lost the baby at six weeks a little over a year ago.
Brandon took a few steps away. “I can wait for you in the waiting room,” he offered, feeling as if he were intruding on her privacy now.
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 fucked up by still being here with her.