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“She’s coming back to the clubhouse tonight, right?” he asked.
“Right,” I agreed. There was no question about that. I wanted her close. I was going to sit awake all night watching her, just to be safe.
“How about some sort of care package?” he suggested. “A ‘feel better’ basket or something like that. Used to throw them together for my wife all the time,” he said, but a dark look crossed his face after the admission.
Colter hadn’t been around long enough for me to claim I really knew the guy. But it had to fucking eat at his soul to know how much he’d tried in his relationship, only to have it ending with the ultimate betrayal from the two people closest to him.
“She likes that Squishmallow thing she has,” I said. “I bet she’d like a new one. Pink.”
“Alright. What else?”
“She likes… comfort shit,” I said. “Blankets and face masks and bubble bath bombs…”
“Got it. Snacks?” he asked, and I rambled off ideas. “Anything else?” he asked after jotting down notes in his phone.
“Not unless you can find a Pekingese puppy in the next few hours,” I said, shaking my head. “Thanks for this,” I said. “She’s really going to appreciate it.”
“I’m sure she’s worth all this and more,” he said, turning, and walking away.
Slash and the others came up next, wanting a breakdown of what happened from me.
“I’ll head back and make sure Raff doesn’t plan on any partying tonight. Give Everleigh a peaceful night to recover,” Slash said.
“I appreciate that,” I said, exhaling hard.
“And we’ll order in tonight,” Sway said. “Know cooking is your love language, but I think she’s gonna want you at her side tonight, not down in the kitchen.”
That was fair.
“Good plan,” I agreed.
“What should we order? Italian? Diner food? Chinese?”
“Yes,” I said.
I didn’t know what she would want.
But I wanted her to have all the choices the town might have to offer.
“And someone needs to tell Rook it’s all over,” I said.
“Coach is on his way there now,” Slash said. “It’s all handled. Go be with your girl.”
With that, I got to my feet, and moved back into Dr. Price’s office.
“Here,” he said, coming in from the back of the building, carrying two cups of coffee. “One for each of you. And this,” he said, pulling a blanket off of his shoulder to drape it over mine. “She’s gonna be here for a while. Might as well let her get comfortable.”
“Thanks, Doc,” I said, exhaling hard. “For everything,” I added. “Is there anything I will need to know when I can take her home?”
“Sometimes the Naloxone has after effects. Upset stomach, body aches, headache, dry nose. I wouldn’t worry about those. If she spikes a fever, has a big change in her blood pressure or pulse, I’d like you to bring her back. But that’s very unlikely. If she had anything, it would likely be the headache, a dry nose, that sort of thing.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “And her shoulder?” I asked, feeling my jaw tightening at the idea that the bastard had done anything else to her.
“Dislocated. She’ll be fine. I gave her a sling, but she’s probably not going to need to use it unless she keeps forgetting about it and trying to use that arm. I prescribe rest for that. And some ice for her head and knees.”
He said that on his way toward the phone that was ringing from the desk.
And I was left to feel my blood start to boil at the idea of her knees being bruised and something being wrong with her head.
