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Yes, it’s within reach!
Well, more or less.
I have to kneel to reach up and grab it, which I do, making my ankle promptly protest.
Damn.
I sit back down on the floor, phone in hand.
Contemplating my options, I tap the device to my chin.
I’m in a dilemma.
I’m not in enough pain to warrant a call to 9-1-1. But I need some sort of assistance.
Unfortunately, there’s really only one person I can call for help—the man who I’m sure does not want to hear from me after our argument.
But he’s my only hope.
Sighing, I call Hayden.
And he answers right away.
Maybe he’s not that angry with me after all?
“Addison?” he says in a questioning tone.
“Yeah, it’s me.” I blow out a breath.
“Calling me on purpose?” he snarks. “Or did you butt-dial my number?”
Well, maybe he is still a little pissed.
Undeterred, I go on. “Ha ha ha, you’re real funny. And yes, I’m calling you intentionally.”
“Okay…” Now he sounds hesitant.
I don’t want him to hang up on me, so I hurry up and say, “I have a little situation going on over here, and I may need some assistance.”
“Really?” he says slowly. “What kind of situation are we talking about?”
I can’t tell if he’s concerned or aggravated, so I just blurt out, “Okay, I know you hate me right now, but I tripped coming down the stairs, and I think I might’ve really hurt my ankle. I don’t want to get up and hobble around and make it any worse. If you could just stop over, even for a few minutes, and help me into the living room, that’d be great. Oh, and maybe you can grab me some ice from the freezer. Then I should be good.”
I finally take a breath, and he says softly, “First, Addison, I don’t hate you. You know that. And second, I’ll be over in a minute.”
“Thank you,” I murmur before we disconnect.
And then, leaning back on the bottom step, I wait for Hayden.
Hayden
Addison is hurt and needs me. That’s all that matters. All of the anger and irritation I felt toward her dissolved the second she told me she’s injured.
I slip on a pair of athletic shoes and race out of my house, cutting across our lawns. In no time, I’m tapping in the code on her security pad.
It beeps, and I open the door and step in.
“Hey,” Addison says, waving to me from the floor at the base of the stairs.
