Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
The albuterol began to work and I could already hear the difference in his breathing. I gently pried his non-bleeding hand away from the other to see a cut in the meaty part of his palm that was about an inch long and definitely would need stiches.
I pulled my T-shirt off and wrapped it around his hand. “You’re good. We’re good, okay? Keep your hand elevated to slow the bleeding, and wait right here. I’m gonna grab my keys and another shirt. We’ll get you to the urgent care and all stitched up.”
“S…s…sor—”
“Don’t apologize. It’s fine. We’ll get it all sorted out later.” Christ, I was already fucking up this single-dad thing. Never had stitches in his life, and a couple of weeks with me and he needed them.
I grabbed my stuff, plus a clean towel to wrap his hand in. When I got back to the porch, he was leaning against the railing, his breathing becoming easier. I tugged the shirt off and got the towel wrapped around his hand. “Let’s go.”
Tears streaked down his face. He was quiet, looking at his hand as we drove.
“What happened?” I asked, but he shook his head.
Luckily, the waiting room at the clinic was empty. There was a nurse standing at the front desk with the clerk. She looked up, saw Logan, and said, “Come on. We can take him straight back.”
I gave my ID and insurance card to the clerk, who said, “I need to get some information from you first.”
“Can you get it back there? I’d like to be with my son.”
She nodded, and I followed along after the nurse. I was about to give Logan’s information, when familiar blue eyes landed on me. It was Callum, and he was wearing a pair of scrubs. Well, shit. I didn’t know why, but I hadn’t expected that. His black hair was calmer than usual, flat on his head instead of styled like fingers had been running through it. He wasn’t wearing the black stuff on his eyes either, though I’d already noticed he only did that sometimes.
“Hey, what happened?” He went straight to Logan and led him to a room.
I went to follow, and the clerk asked, “What’s his name?”
“Logan Wheeler.”
I told her his birthday next. I was standing outside the room, Logan looking over at me, when Callum asked, “Is that enough for now? Are you still able to get him registered? I’ll make sure they stop by and finish up when we’re done. They’re friends of mine.”
She asked if the address on my ID was correct, and when I said yes, she walked away. I went into the room with them, closing the door behind me.
“What happened here?” Callum asked him. He’d already put on gloves and was looking at Logan’s hand.
Logan’s eyes darted to me, then away. “I was, um…trying to lift some of my dad’s weights. I don’t really know how it happened, but my hand like, slipped or whatever. There was something on the weight bench that cut me? I don’t know what it was.”
“Well, there was your first mistake. Never work out,” Callum said with a wink. “I’m kidding. Exercise is good for you, but maybe do it with Dad?”
“Buddy, you know I would have lifted with you.” I squeezed his shoulder.
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t need you. I want…wanted…” He closed his mouth, tightened his jaw and he looked away, obviously not wanting to continue speaking.
“Okay,” Callum said. “This is what we’re going to do. We’ll get the area numb, and I’ll get you stitched up. Then I’m going to tell you a story.” Callum looked at me. “Dad, any allergies to medicines?”
“No.”
“Medical history I should know about other than the asthma?”
“None.”
“Tetanus shot?”
“I don’t know if he’s ever had one.”
“We’ll do it to be safe, then. I’ll be right back.” He tossed the gloves and left the room.
“Logan—”
“We’ll talk about it later, Dad,” he replied, and I nodded.
Then Callum was back with a nurse, who had two shots on a plastic tray. Logan’s wide, panicked eyes turned toward me, so I went over, stood beside him, and held his good hand. “I hate needles too. I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but I’m too afraid.”
“Really? You don’t seem like you’re afraid of anything.”
I frowned. Did he really see me that way? “I’m afraid of a lot of things. Everyone is.”
I held him while the nurse gave him the tetanus and numbing shots. I could feel Callum’s stare on us, but I couldn’t make myself look at him. I wasn’t quite sure why.
A few minutes later there was an extra light in the room, a tray with supplies, and Callum leaning over Logan’s hand, stitching him up, while I held my son’s other hand.
“You’re a doctor?” Logan asked.
“No, I’m a nurse practitioner. We see patients like a doctor does, though.”