Wild Kisses (Wildwood 2)
George heaved a sigh and stared blankly at his hand. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I think I’m too tired to play anymore.”
Avery closed her fan of cards, then did the same for George’s. “You’ve had a rough morning.” She squeezed his hand. “Put your head back and relax. You should be able to go home soon.”
She straightened the deck, slipped it into the cardboard box, and set the box on the counter for the nurse who’d brought them in. When she returned her gaze to George, his eyes were still open, and the one on the side where he’d needed stitches along his cheekbone was developing a bruise.
“It isn’t like Trace to be late,” George said.
Avery lowered the head of the gurney and pulled the blanket higher on George’s chest. “Are you warm enough?”
“He’s such a good boy. Zane probably drug him off somewhere again.”
Avery glanced at the time on her phone, noticed there was no message from Trace, and pulled a chair up alongside George’s bed. She curled her fingers over his to check their temperature, but when he closed his fingers around hers, she left her hand in his.
“It isn’t like Trace to be late,” he said again. “Zane probably drug him off somewhere again,” he repeated. “Do you think we oughta call school?”
She squeezed his hand. “No, I’m sure he’s fine.” To redirect his mind, she said, “Tell me about Trace.”
George’s gaze met hers, and his mouth quivered into a smile. “Oh, he’s such a good boy.” His gaze drifted to the ceiling. “And smart. That boy could be anything he wants to be.”
“What does he want to be?”
“An architect. Wants to build big skyscrapers, like the ones in San Francisco and New York.”
Avery smiled. “Big dreams. Why didn’t he become an architect?”
Avery swore George aged ten years right in front of her eyes. “My fault,” he muttered, almost unintelligible. “All my fault.”
She leaned forward and squeezed his hand. “Why, George? Why was it your fault?”
He just shook his head and closed his eyes.
Avery released a sigh, uncurled her fingers from his hand, and sat back. Whatever. It didn’t matter. She didn’t know how long he’d had dementia. Maybe that had interfered with Trace’s ability to go to school.
The curtain across the door swayed, drawing Avery’s attention to the doctor entering again. She didn’t look much older than Avery, which made her wonder what she could have done with her life if she’d made different decisions back when she’d been seventeen.
Water under the bridge. And lesson learned. She didn’t need to make the same mistake with another man.
“Did you get ahold of Zane?” Avery asked.
“I did. He’s signed off on everything, so as soon as we finish up the paperwork, you’ll be free to take Mr. Hutton home.”
George mumbled something unintelligible but didn’t open his eyes, so Avery told the doctor, “Great. Thank you.”
“No problem. The nurse will be in with instructions on wound care and bandaging. It’s pretty straightforward. I understand that you may only be with him a few hours today, so if you can just pass on that information to his caretakers, that would be great.”
“Absolutely.”
“Unfortunately, we aren’t going to be able to send him home with any prescription pain medications. He’ll have to stick with Tylenol or Advil.”
Avery winced. “I sat through those stitches. Isn’t his face going to hurt like hell when the numbing wears off?”
The doctor’s sympathetic gaze slid toward George’s cheek, and she lifted her brows. “Probably, but, unfortunately, his history of addiction prohibits us from prescribing narcotics.”
Avery chuckled. “Sorry. I just remember my dad, who taught me the meaning of falling-down drunk. He was always hurting himself and his doctors still gave him prescription meds.”
“They’re definitely both addictions, but since Mr. Hutton’s addiction began with pain meds, he’s at an extremely high risk of abusing those again. Couple that with his dementia, and sending him home with pain meds that he could easily become addicted to, yet not remember how many he’d taken, could be deadly. I’ll send him home with some stronger doses of Tylenol and Advil. If he’s in considerable pain, try using the two together for a synergistic effect. I’ll make sure the nurse explains everything and . . .”
Avery’s mind slipped out of the conversation, caught somewhere back around “since Mr. Hutton’s addiction began with pain meds.” She’d heard Trace had stayed with Pearl on and off over the years because of his mother’s cancer and his father’s trouble with the law. For some reason, she’d thought George had been using street drugs back when Trace had been younger. Or maybe she’d just assumed. But she certainly hadn’t known he had an addiction.