Scars On Our Hearts by Stacey Wallace

Author:Stacey Wallace [Wallace, Stacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Write Free Press

Thirteen

One of the paramedics on duty at the firehouse, Lynn, removes the busted splint from my thumb and peels the tape off of my hand.

“I’m going to gently palpate, poke around, and you let me know if anything hurts, like, above a five, okay?” Her green eyes are kind.

I nod and hold my breath. She starts all the way over by my pinkie. I exhale. “You’re easing me into it, aren’t you?”

She chuckles. “Maybe.”

My ring finger is also unaffected, but I go to hold my breath again as she nears the middle.

“How long have you been seeing Wade?” she asks, more to distract me, I think, than to pry.

Lynn seems like a nice woman and she has to be easygoing to work with all of these dudes, but I don’t know if the truth is called for or what.

“Sorry,” she says when I take too long to reply. “It’s none of my business. We’re just a close group here and I’d hate for him to … you’re the woman he pulled from a burning car, right?”

Lynn presses at the base of my index finger and I blurt, “Seven!”

She backs off, nodding.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Wade pulled me from my car.”

“So, we sometimes get these women - even I get them and I’m straight - that sort of become groupies. Especially if we’ve played a part in saving their lives. I’m hoping that’s not what’s going on here, is all I’m saying.”

Before she even gets to my thumb, I say, “eight.” And then, “That’s not what’s going on here. Despite what it may seem like and the fact we’re trying to keep it casual, our feelings are mutual.”

Lynn grins at me and sets my hand down on the counter between us. “Wonderful,” she says. She takes a few things from her medical bag – tape, scissors, and another splint. “It doesn’t feel broken, but you should of course get an x-ray to confirm as soon as your doctor can get you in. Like, hopefully tomorrow?”

I nod. “I have a PT appointment tomorrow. I’ll take care of it then.”

“Okay, great. I’ll splint and tape it up real good for now. You’ll have zero mobility, but it should keep your pain at two or three instead of seven.”

“Can I take an Advil?”

“Absolutely. Up to four 200mg tablets every eight hours.” She digs around in her bag and comes up with a bottle, shaking out four pills and sliding them my way. “Let me get you a glass of water.”

Wade and I drive back to Mrs. Gustafson’s. His friends, Daryl and Mike, are waiting out front when we get there.

“Shit, you still have a ton of work to do,” I say, groggy from the ibuprofen.

“No big deal,” Wade says. “We work fast.” He eyes the bag my phone came in on the floor. “Did your phone come with ear buds? We will be making a lot of noise and you need to get some rest.”

I pick up the bag and peer inside. I decide not

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