Molly paused for a moment at the door, her hand on the knob, and then she squared her shoulders and stepped outside without another word. The door closed firmly behind her.
Kyle let the curse that had been building inside him escape in a sibilant hiss that seemed to echo in the sudden silence inside his house. He turned abruptly toward the kitchen. Maybe a cup of tea would ease the tightness in his chest and throat. After that, he would—
A sharp crack came from outside the front door, simultaneously accompanied by a startled cry. Moving faster than he had in the past eight months, Kyle ran for the door and threw it open.
Molly lay sprawled on the front porch. Her overnight bag had tumbled to the ground, and one of her shoes lay beside it. Her right leg was twisted painfully beneath her, the foot stuck in a hole created when a rotten board had given way beneath her weight.
Her face was utterly colorless, making her white skin stand out in sharp contrast to her fiery hair. She looked up at him through a film of tears she was doing her best to hold back. “I think my leg is broken.”
Molly sat on a paper-covered medical examination table, her bandaged right foot stuck out in front of her. She wore a thin cotton hospital gown over her under-garments. She doubted that her jeans would fit over the Velcro-fastened walking brace that now covered her right leg halfway up to the knee.
She was fortunate that there had been no broken bones, though her ankle was badly sprained. Her lower leg was swollen and her bare toes looked almost purple beneath the brace. She had the strangest feeling that she should be in pain. She could actually feel a distant throbbing, but it seemed almost disconnected from her body.
So did her injured foot, for that matter. She gazed at it in fascination as it appeared to float at the end of her leg. “Wow.”
“What’s wrong?” Kyle had been hovering nearby, watching her with a deeply concerned frown, but he moved closer when she spoke. “Are you hurting?”
“No. I just feel strange.” She gave him a smile. He had such pretty eyes. “You’re sweet to worry about me.”
His expression turned suddenly wry. “You’re floating on pain pills. Why do I get the feeling you have a low tolerance for medications?”
She heard herself giggle, though she tried to suppress it. “That’s why I tried to tell everyone I didn’t need any pain meds, though no one would listen. Shane says I can get high on aspirin. He says it’s a good thing I’ve never wanted to experiment with drugs or booze, since I’d probably be a real cheap drunk.”
“Sounds like you need to listen to your brother.”
“I’m sure he would agree with you. Is it cold in here to you?”
“Here.” He reached for the thin white blanket that lay behind her on the exam table and wrapped it around her. “Is that better?”
“Um-hmm.” She snuggled into the blanket’s warmth, wishing she could nestle so comfortably into Kyle’s arms. She would bet he radiated heat—but she wasn’t quite high enough to throw away all remnants of her common sense.
“The nurse should be back to release you soon, so we can get out of here.”
He looked as though it couldn’t be soon enough to suit him. Kyle seemed to have a pathological aversion to medical facilities. She suspected he had spent far too much time in them during the past nine months.
“Am I supposed to wear this gown out of here?” she asked, only marginally concerned. “I don’t think I can get my jeans on over this cast thingy.”
“I’m taking care of that.”
Someone tapped tentatively on the door.
“Come in,” Molly sang out, looking expectantly that way.
The door opened and Mack McDooley entered, along with a tiny, silver-haired woman who had to be his wife. The woman carried a bulging shopping bag in her arms.
“Mack!” Molly greeted him with genuine, if drug-enhanced, pleasure. “What are you doing here?”
“Kyle called us from a hospital pay phone. I’m sorry you were hurt. How are you doing now?”
“It’s my fault,” Kyle muttered grimly, before she could answer. “I knew there were rotten boards on the porch but I forgot to warn her about them.”
Molly sighed gustily. “Will you stop blaming yourself? I slipped on a wet spot and my foot went through a board. It wasn’t your fault, Kyle. It’s wasn’t anyone’s fault. Just an accident.”
“Molly,” Mack said quickly, cutting off the argument Kyle looked prepared to make, “I’d like you to meet my wife, Jewel. Honey, this is Kyle’s friend, Molly Walker.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Molly. Mack told me all about his visit with you this morning. He was quite taken with you.” Jewel spoke in a rich, slow Southern drawl that wrapped around Molly like another warm blanket. “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances. I’ve brought you something to wear out of the hospital.”
“That was so sweet of you.” What a nice lady, Molly thought, beaming at Kyle’s friends. What a nice couple. Heck, everyone around here was nice, judging from how well she had been treated since Kyle brought her in.