“Truitt, dude, why didn’t you tell us you had a fetish for women’s clothing?”
Jerking my head around to look at him, I replied, “Fuck you, Roger. Why are you here?”
“Ryan put the call out and said you were hurt. When you’re hurt, we’re hurt.”
“We?” I asked, not wanting to know what he meant by that.
“Yeah, we.” He turned and motioned with his hand. Standing outside the doors of the ER were Jack, Paul, and Pete, who clearly wasn’t working tonight since he was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt.
“What the fuck?” I mumbled as they all stood there, their phones up, capturing the entire moment.
“Okay, let’s get this guy into the ER and see what damage he’s done now!” Ryan said, pushing up a wheelchair.
“Need help getting out? We wouldn’t want you to flash anyone,” Roger said as he tried like hell not to laugh and failed.
“I’m perfectly fine, motherfucker!” I snapped as I got out of the truck and dropped myself into the wheelchair. If it didn’t feel like someone had pushed a knife into my knee, I would have walked in on my own.
Ryan pushed the wheelchair past all my other ex-friends as they started placing bets on what the injury would be.
“I’ve got fifty on a torn meniscus,” Paul said.
“Damn it, I was going for that!” Pete said.
“Did you leave a note for Saryn?” I asked Ryan as he stopped us in front of the nurses’ station.
“I did. I told her I found you on the ground in the front yard rolling about in pain. That I had to take your sorry ass to the ER and that I’d make sure she got her robe back.”
With a groan, I dropped my head down. “I hate you,” I softly whispered.
All he did was clasp his hand on my shoulder and said, “Welcome to the family, bro.”
Things didn’t get much better when Dr. Turner walked into the room. She stopped when she saw me. She took in the robe I was still wearing and looked at Ryan, Roger, Pete, and Paul.
“Do I even want to know?” she asked.
“The good news is, it’s not a broken dick this time, doc,” Roger said.
I closed my eyes and prayed I could go back in time and wish on a falling star to be an only child.
“Well, that’s good news,” Dr. Turner said.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a torn meniscus,” Pete said. After Dr. Turner did an exam, she ordered an MRI. I begged the tech to leave me in the waiting room outside of X-ray and not bring me back to the ER and my so-called friends. She agreed and even brought me a cup of water.
Pete ended up finding me and bringing me back to the ER to talk to the doctor.
“It’s a torn meniscus. I recommend arthroscopic total meniscectomy. It’s a pretty bad tear,” Dr. Turner said. “There’s an on-call orthopedic doctor in this evening, and we can do the surgery tonight.”
“Tonight?” I asked, looking around the room. No one was laughing or joking, but I was pretty sure I saw Ryan hand Pete money.
The door to the room opened, and Saryn walked in holding Liliana. Her eyes bounced around the room until they landed back on mine. I saw the concern in there and the fear, but it melted away the moment I smiled at her.
Then she saw what I was wearing, and her cheeks turned a bright red.
“He needs surgery for a torn meniscus,” Ryan said, most likely hoping to deflect from the fact that I was still wearing her robe.
Before she could say anything, I turned back to the doctor. “How long is the recovery? I’m pretty busy at work.”
“You’ll be up and moving around in about a week.”
“A week!” I nearly shouted.
“The orthopedic doctor can give you a better idea. I’ve had him paged, and he should be down to talk to you soon. In the meantime, I’m going to have you moved to a room so you’re more comfortable. And maybe one of your friends here might be kind enough to go and get you some clothes.”
Ryan walked up and took Liliana from Saryn’s arms. She was sound asleep. “I take it you woke up and found the note.”
She nodded. “I didn’t want to wake Mom and Dad so early.”
“I’ll take her home, don’t worry, he’ll be fine,” Ryan said as he kissed his sister on the cheek.
Before he could leave, Saryn called out to him. “Ryan, once you get Liliana settled, will you take Rus to the vet? He’s limping. I called the emergency vet and they told me to bring him in.”
Everyone looked at me, then Roger slapped me on the back. “Dude, either your dog has sympathy pains, or he’s got your kind of luck.”
“How crazy would it be if they had the same injury?” Pete said with a chuckle. Before I knew it, they were all placing bets on that, too.