When Jovie finally finishes, she steps back. “There.”
Trent studies the bandage. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Don’t I need stitches?”
“No stitches.”
“Are you sure?”
She folds her arms. “One hundred percent sure.”
He nods. “Okay.” Then pauses. “Can I still rope?”
“I wouldn’t advise it. Not until your skin grows back in.”
His face falls. “I still have four days.”
“We can review the tape and see what went wrong, and you can help me coach for a few days. Unless you want to call your parents and have them pick you up early,” I say.
He shakes his head. “No, sir. I wanna stay.”
“That’s the spirit. Now go eat lunch before you pass out.”
“Can I tell everybody I almost lost my thumb?”
“No,” Jovie says.
“Yes,” I say.
She looks at me.
I shrug. “Kid earned a good story.”
“Thanks, Axle.” He hops off the table and heads toward the door.
“Take it easy,” Jovie calls after him. “And once you’ve eaten, swing back by, and I’ll give you some Tylenol.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
The door closes behind him.
“He bounced back quickly,” Jovie says as she cleans up the area.
I watch her for a second.
Finally, she glances over her shoulder. “Do you need something else, Mr. Trust?”
“Yes.”
She raises a brow.
My boots thud softly against the floor as I cross the room.
Her eyes stay locked on mine.
“About that patient-doctor confidentiality thing …”
