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She gave him the stare of death, and he slowed down and squatted in front of her. “Want me to give you a lift back to the car?”
“Yes.”
“Then hop on, ’cause I don’t have all day.”
He heard her groan loudly before she ran past him, her pink workout shirt dark with sweat. When he caught up to her, he heard her chanting something and he bent closer to hear, but it was too soft to make out. “What’s that?”
“I am saying, ‘I hate you. I hate you.’ ”
“That’s not nice. I offered to carry you.”
“It was a test to see if I would crack under pressure, but you will not break me, sir!” She sped up, her feet flying, and never one to turn down a challenge, Blake caught up, teasing her by keeping pace for a second or two.
Then he took off, loving the rush of the wind in his face.
A sharp cry behind him made his heart and feet skid to a stop. When he turned, Hannah was on the ground, holding her leg with pain-filled sobs.
Blake was by her side in seconds. “Fuck, Hannah, what happened?”
She didn’t open her eyes, but he could see the tear tracks on her cheeks. Blake reached for her leg to see what had happened, and she yelled, “Don’t touch it!”
“Is it your leg or your ankle?”
“Ankle,” she choked. “It turned, and I heard a snap before I went crashing into the pavement.”
Blake grimaced and moved her hands away. Her ankle sock was already stretching around the swelling, and as he started to roll it down gently, she whimpered.
“It’s okay, I’ll take you back to the car, and we’ll go have it looked at.” He lifted her into his arms and started walking down the trail to where he’d parked the car. Several moms pushing strollers slowed, watching them curiously. Hannah continued to sniffle against his chest, every once in a while releasing a moan when he had to readjust her and her ankle got jostled.
They made it back to the car, and Blake helped her in. “Is there somewhere specific we need to go?”
She shook her head, her skin a pale green shade that reminded him of a dead fish. “Any urgent care.”
He shut the door and got into the driver’s side. If the foot was broken, she might have to have surgery on it, but if it was a sprain, she’d just be in pain for several weeks and moving around in one of those plastic boots.
Blake searched for the closest hospital on his smartphone and set it up to give him turn-by-turn directions. He tried to drive gently, but when he took a turn too fast, he heard Hannah suck in a painful breath.
“Sorry, we’re almost there. Still hate me?”
Blake saw her shake her head out of the corner of his eye, a small smile on her lips. “Not at the moment. I can’t hate beyond the pain.”
Blake reached across with one hand and took hers in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Not your fault. I wanted to go. I just got these weak ankles that turn without any warning.”
“This has happened before? I wish you had told me—”
“Not like this, but I’ve rolled them just by wearing heels. I should have wrapped them for extra support, but I didn’t think about it.” She squeezed his hand back. “I appreciate all the care and concern, though.”
“Hey, I don’t like how pale you are. I might need to take extra good care of you.”
“I like the sound of that.”
HANNAH SAT IN the hospital bed with her foot elevated on a pillow, waiting for the ER doctor to come back. Blake had taken her to the hospital just in case it was broken, and she had been in so much pain, she hadn’t argued. But when they’d put an IV in her arm, she’d told them that she didn’t like strong pain meds, mostly because she knew her birth mom had been an addict, and she had always thought why risk it?
They hadn’t listened to her, though, because she was definitely a little loopy. The room started spinning, and she closed her eyes against the swoony sensation.
“What did you give me?” she slurred.
