Page 146 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

Family.

Gentle had made me want to scream.

Hannah pressed lightly near the irritated area and I flinched.

“What’s your pain level today?”

I hated that question. Numbers made pain sound measurable when half the time it depended on everything around it. A six while lying in bed wasn’t the same as a six when there were cows waiting to be fed.

“Four.”

She looked at me, brown eyes narrowing as she saw straight through my bullshit.

“Five.”

Her dark brows furrowed.

“Fine. Six when I’ve been walking all day.”

“Better, I need to know how bad it is so I can help you.” She rolled backward and reached for the prosthetic. My gaze followed automatically. The socket liner was still slightly damp from the morning heat despite having cleaned everything before the appointment.

I hated that she could see it. Which was ridiculous, because I knew she had seen worse.

This woman had seen every stage of my body adapting to a prosthesis. She had watched me walk badly, fall, cry, swear, refuse to try again, then try again anyway.

There was nothing left to be embarrassed about. Apparently, my brain hadn’t received that memo.

“You’ve lost a little volume.” Hannah turned the prosthesis slightly, examining the inside.

“I haven’t lost weight.”

“Residual limb volume changes for reasons other than weight.”

“I know.” My answer came sharper than intended, but she didn’t react. That was another thing I liked about her.

“We can adjust the fit,” she said and set the prosthesis down. “I’d also like you to take it easier for a few days.”

I laughed.

She didn’t.

“You know I run a ranch,” I said.

“I know.”

“Harvest Festival is less than a month away.”

“I know.”

“Twenty-something people have apparently decided my property is their personal community project.”

“I saw Darlene’s Facebook post.”

I closed my eyes. “She promised she wouldn’t post until Rosie announced it.”

“Technically she shared Rosie’s announcement.”

“Of course.”