I spot Millie as she climbs the stairs, snapping photos on her phone of every last fucking detail of this place. How can she even enjoy it when all she’s doing is taking pictures?
I take a short walk in the opposite direction to get away from her, and that’s when I hear the distinct sound of a woman yelling, “Oh shit!” followed by a bit of a shriek.
I turn around and find Millie on the second stair on her ass as she holds onto her ankle. She’s rocking back and forth, and she’s definitely trying not to cry.
Ah, fuck.
CHAPTER 16: Millie Monroe
I’ll Make You Pay Now
“Are you okay?” Archer asks, and he’s by my side, kneeling down to check out the damage a moment later.
“I don’t know,” I say, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth together to try to create pain somewhere else than the one currently darting through my ankle. It’s futile. My eyes fill with tears.
“Let me take a look,” he says.
I let go of my ankle so he can see, and it doesn’t look broken even though it sort of feels like it is.
“It looks normal, no swelling, so I don’t think it’s a sprain. Can you wiggle your toes?” he asks.
I wiggle.
“Does this hurt?” he asks, and he moves my ankle just a bit from side to side.
“Fuck! Yes! Don’t do that! I need a medical professional!” I’m half-sobbing, half-yelling.
He chuckles a little, and I’m about ready to smack him. “It’s just a roll. You’ll be fine in a day or two.”
“How do you know?” I narrow my eyes at him as I sniffle and try to pull it together. If I could get the tears under control, that would be a good start.
“I’ve rolled my ankle a million times. So has every guy I’ve ever played with.” He rises to a stand. “It hurts the worst in the first few hours, so let me help you back to the bus. Can you bear weight on it?”
He helps me to a stand, and even in this moment of agony, I feel the clench pull deep in my stomach with his hands on me.
It gets worse when I try to take a step and cry out in pain. The pain doesn’t worsen, necessarily. It’s that damn pull in my stomach as he sweeps me up into his arms like some hero out of a fucking fairy tale.
He carries me back to the bus, and Ricardo stands by the steps smoking a cigarette.
“You okay, ma’am?” he asks.
“I twisted my ankle,” I admit.
“Can we board a little early to get her off her feet?” Archer asks. He’s not breathing heavily from carrying me down the steps and to the bus. I realize he’s a professional athlete, but even for one of those, his strength is impressive.
Ricardo nods. “Get well soon, ma’am. There’s another hour before we head out.”
“Thanks,” I mumble as Archer carries me up the steps and deposits me into a seat.
“Prop your leg up,” he suggests, and I do.
“Thanks,” I mumble to him, too.
“You’re welcome.” He sits across the aisle from me.
“You don’t have to sit with me for the next hour. I don’t want you to miss out on anything on account of me.”
“I’m not. How’d you fall?” he asks.
