Trixsters Anonymous

“Fuck, Emi, move back. I’m coming in.”

She scoots on her butt just enough for me to slip through. When I get inside, I automatically look around for signs of whatever crashed earlier. Nothing looks out of place so I kneel in front of her, inspecting her face and body.

“Babe, what’s going on? Are you okay?” My hands go to her head, tipping her face to mine.

“No,” she groans. “Maren tried to kill me. I’m down for the count, dying, never ever going to be able to walk again. Leave me to die.”

She’s holding her hand to her right hip and pelvis, rubbing in small circles.

“I’m not following. Talk to me.”

“Maren and her fucking yoga. She insisted I try it, I begged her no, then she dared me. I couldn’t look like a chicken…”

It all starts to click into place; the story of her uncoordinated efforts come to mind. I catch her hand as she presses deeper into her inner thigh.

“Lean into me, babe.” I slide one arm under her knees and the other around her back. As gently as possible, I lift and carry her to the sofa.

Her head falls against my chest, and she grips my shirt until I get her settled in my lap. “Yoga injury,” she confesses.

“Did you pull your groin?”

“Yes, how’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” I try to hide the hilarity in my answer.

Her head snaps up and she gives me an evil glare. “You think this is funny?”

“Not at all,” I lie.

“You do! You’re trying not to laugh at me.”

“Am not.”

“My groin, Walker! Do you know how embarrassing it was? Now, I can’t walk, can hardly crawl, and there are shooting pains from my crotch all the way to my hip. I’m dying, just dying!”

I’m starting to understand the melodramatics the guys at the station warned me about.

“I’ve sprained my groin a few times. I can assure you that you’re not dying.”

“How long will this pain last?”

“I’m not gonna lie, you’ll be uncomfortable for a few days. But with the right care, you’ll heal quicker.”

“Okay, I’ve got loads of stuff to help. No more worries. The pharmacist says you should be able to have sex by next week!” The front door flies open, and Maren comes in carrying bags from the drugstore. She stops quickly, her mouth dropping open when she spots Emi in my lap.

“Oops,” she says, winking at me.

“Maren! Haven’t you embarrassed me enough for one day? Maybe even for a lifetime?” Emi cries out and buries her head in my chest.

“Stop being a baby. Let’s get you taken care of.” She drops the bags on the floor and starts unloading items on the coffee table. “Heating pad, ice pack, arnica, Bengay, muscle tension relief. I got everything the pharmacist recommended.”

“Any chance you were able to get me pain pills?” Emi mutters in my shirt.

“No, unfortunately, she wouldn’t budge on those. Recommended Aleve.”

“Figures, I’m going to start a search tomorrow for a new best friend. First requirement is to be able to steal Oxy when in need. You’re an officer, can you get me some?” Emi raises her face and looks at me hopefully.

“No, babe. Controlled substances aren’t negotiable.”