Dirty Little Secret

I glance down at her ankle; the skin is puffy and bruised. It pains me just looking at it. “I know.” I lean down and press a kiss to her temple.

“Don’t,” she whispers as I move to stand, clutching at my shirt like it’s her lifeline. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Luna.” I smooth her hair away from her face. “I’ve got you.”

Ten minutes pass without Liam returning. Logically, I know he’s busy and we’re not his only patients but watching Stella whimper in pain cancels out any bit of logic I have.

The only thing stopping me from storming the nurses’ station is my unwillingness to leave her side.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, a knock sounds from the other side of the door.

“Sorry about that,” Liam says apologetically. “Tell me if this hurts.” He drapes a towel over her ankle and settles the ice pack on top of it.

Stella’s hold on me tightens as she winces in pain.

I listen intently as he goes over the pain meds he’s administering, explaining the dosage and possible side effects. “If you begin to feel nauseated, don’t hesitate to hit the call button for some Zofran. The doctor should be in shortly.”

“Thanks,” Stella murmurs, her eyelids heavy as hours of pain give way to exhaustion.

The sound of the door opening rouses Stella from the first bit of rest she’s had all night. “Samson?” she mumbles my name, searching for me in the dimly lit room.

“I’m here, Luna,” I assure her, squeezing her hand for good measure.

“Sorry to wake you, Stella. I’m Dr. Gardner. If you could just confirm your date of birth for me really quick.” She verifies the date Stella gives against her paperwork. “Perfect. Tell me about what’s going on?”

“I was camping with friends, and fell.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how’s your pain?” she asks, gently removing the ice pack and towel from Stella’s ankle.

“Before meds, an eight. Now it’s more like a six.”

“Can you rotate your ankle?”

Stella shakes her head no.

The doctor runs her through a series of other tests, checking the pulse in her foot, along with her range of motion. Stella, despite her obvious discomfort, handles the whole thing like a champ.

“Okay, Stella, I think we need to send you for X-rays.” Dr. Gardner places the towel and ice pack back over her swollen ankle. “I’m going to put the order in and someone will be by to wheel you down to radiology shortly.”

“Thanks,” Stella whispers, before allowing herself to sink back into the thin pillow propping her up.

“Are you okay?” I ask, threading my fingers through hers.

“Just tired. And hurting.” She turns her head to look my way. “And tired of hurting.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, but she’s already drifted back into a fitful sleep.

As I watch her rest, I’m torn between texting Orion to let him know she’s hurt and keeping it to myself. Her family—especially her mom—would want to be here with her, but how can I explain my presence without outing us to her family?

At this point, my loyalty lies with Stella; and plus, what’s one more lie where her family is concerned?

Countless minutes pass before another knock sounds.

“Come in.”

“Stella Cartwright?” a young-looking nurse asks.

“Huh?”

The nurse smiles. “Are you Stella Cartwright?”

My girl nods sleepily.

“I’m here to take you down to radiology. If you could verify your birth date, please?”

Stella groans as she wiggles herself into a more upright position before replying.

“Okay, great. We’re going to move you into the wheelchair and then we’ll be off.”

The nurse looks like a strong wind would blow her over, so I take charge and transfer Stella from the bed to the chair.

“Sir, you’re welcome to come with, but you’ll have to wait outside of the actual imaging room.”

“Got it. You lead the way, I’ll push.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re back in the room waiting for the doctor to let us know the damage.

Now wide awake, Stella is restless and her pain level is slowly creeping back up. “I want to go home.”

“We’ll be out of here soon,” I tell her, not knowing whether it’s true or not. Judging from how the night’s gone so far, we may be here for a while longer, but telling her that when she’s already miserable isn’t an option.

“Has anyone texted me? I told Emmy I would keep her updated.”

“I’m not sure. Do you want me to get your phone?”

She nods and then shakes her head.

“I don’t know what that means, Luna.”

“You get my phone and text her. My hands feel shaky.”

I stand and retrieve her phone from her bag on the other side of the room. “What’s your passcode?”

A small grin brightens her otherwise pale face. “Both of our birth months.”

“Oh, really?” I tap in the code, grinning like a lovesick fool.

“Shut up.”

“You really love me, huh?” I wag my brows at her and then promptly freeze when Stella nods her head and says, “Yeah, Samson, I really do.”