“Yeah, definitely,” I say, trying to make it seem like that was the reason all along. “Don’t want to piss off the bosses.”
He runs a hand through his blond hair but is careful to avoid my eyes. “Guess I’ll see you around, Lydia.”
“I’ll be here.” I give a dorky laugh that I wish I could take back as soon as it leaves my mouth. I swear I catch a glimpse of relief on his face, like he’s just now realizing the bullet he dodged with my messed-up ass. Yeah, Chris, I’ve got issues. Better run fast and far before my insane hitman stalker comes after you.
Later that night, I debate what to do. I think about writing Kirill a letter, but then decide that the best thing is for me to just ignore him. If I keep to myself, then he won’t have any fingers to chop off, or worse, and this will give him the opportunity to prove that what he says is true and that he won’t hurt me. The idea of not writing him agitates me, which is all the more reason to not write him. He’s getting under my skin, and that won’t lead to anything good, at least not for me.
The next morning, my doorstep is empty, and I pretend that I’m thrilled about it and ignore the slight annoyance I feel at not having a new letter to read. It’s my day off, so I throw on some old clothes and spend the morning planting some new flowers. I’m brushing dirt off my jeans and not paying attention to where I’m going when I trip over the hose and fall on my ass. I stick my arm out to break my fall and end up landing on my wrist in a way that sends a white-hot flash of pain up my arm as my breath leaves my lungs in a painful hiss.
Peanut runs over to me when I groan and clutch my arm to my chest. I look down, breathing out a sigh of relief when I don’t see a bone sticking out anywhere, but stretching out my arm and trying to wiggle my fingers sends another jolt of pain straight through me.
“That’s probably not a good sign,” I tell Peanut. He sniffs my hand and gives a soft whine. I think about my measly bank account and the huge deductible on my insurance and decide that it’s probably not broken. “Nothing a little aspirin can’t fix,” I mutter and slowly get my ass back up to standing. At least I had enough sense to fall on my left arm.
An hour later I’m petting Peanut goodbye and walking to my car. Fuck this. My wrist is twice the size it was and the aspirin isn’t doing shit to dull the pain. I keep my arm glued to my chest and drive one-handed to the emergency room. Once I’ve signed in, I sit down and wish like hell I had someone here with me. My bastard of a mind immediately imagines what it would be like to have Kirill by my side. God, he probably would’ve done some over-the-top man move like carrying me in bridal style while yelling for a doctor. I smile at my own stupid fantasy. There’s no one here to take care of me, so I sit in the uncomfortable, plastic chair for three goddamn hours until they finally decide to call me back.
After x-rays and an examine that brings tears to my eyes as the doctor prods my tender arm, it’s finally decided that I have a nasty sprain, and I need to immobilize it for a couple of weeks. He wraps it in an elastic bandage and tells me to buy a sling. I do get a nice prescription from some painkillers, though, so not a wasted trip at all.
I dread checking out. I’m scared to death the bill is going to empty my measly savings, but when I tell the receptionist my name, she smiles and says, “Okay, Ms. Moore, you’re good to go.”
“Huh?”
“I said you’re good to go. Everything’s taken care of.”
“What do you mean? Don’t I have a copay?” I briefly wonder why the hell I’m arguing with her. If it’s a clerical error, then I should just be grateful for the good luck and get my ass out of here before they realize the mistake.
“Your bill has been paid,” she says, speaking slowly in the hopes that I’ll get it this time.
“Who paid it?”
“A nice gentleman paid it while you were in the exam room.”
I shoot my head around, running my eyes over everyone in the waiting room, but aside from a man holding a bleeding hand and a woman with a screaming toddler, the place is empty.
“Is he here? Do you see him?”
She arches a manicured brow at me. “No,” she says even slower, making me feel like a real dumbass. “He left before you came out.”
“What did he look like?”
“Tall, light brown hair with a slight beard, hazel eyes.” A soft smile plays at her lips. “He was very handsome.”
I thank her and then race to the pharmacy. With my pills in hand, I drive home, the pain in my arm fading to the background while I think about what just happened. Kirill paid my hospital bills, and I have a description of the man who’s been following me, of the man who broke into my home. Shutting my car door, I walk to my house and stop by the front door. I turn around, scanning the street I live on. I don’t expect to see anyone, but at least now I know who I’m looking for.
Peanut goes nuts when I walk in, scampering around my feet while whimpering and sniffing all the hospital smells. Too worn out to do much of anything, I let Peanut out to use the bathroom and then send a message to Chris, letting him know I’ve sprained my wrist and asking if someone can cover my shift tomorrow. He immediately responds and tells me it’s not a problem and hopes I feel better soon. With that taken care of, I pop a pain pill and lay down on the couch. Peanut cuddles up beside me, and the next thing I know it’s morning.
Even with my drug-fuzzy brain, my first thought is still of Kirill. I stumble to the door, and when I open it, I can’t help but smile when I see the giant care package that’s waiting for me. I grab the basket with my good hand and lug it inside. Peanut runs over and sits down beside me while I look through everything. There’s a bouquet of red roses, a sling, a heating pad, some ice packs, several bags of Twizzlers, my favorite hot chocolate, some really comfy-looking pajamas, and there’s even a box of Peanut’s favorite milk bones. When I give him one, he wags his little tail like crazy before bolting down the hall. I open the letter last.
My sweet zaika,
I heard you had a little fall yesterday. I’m not a man who cares about much, Lydia, but when I found out you were in the emergency room all alone, it made this damn cell feel even smaller than it already is. I can be patient, at least I thought I could be, but my need to take care of you is overwhelming at times. I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you, that I couldn’t drive you to the hospital and wait with you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to take care of you. You would not have had to wait three hours if I’d been there with you.
I hope this stuff helps in some small way. Be sure to wear the sling, zaika. Baby the arm, don’t use it, and be sure to ice it regularly and then later you can move on to the heating pad. Be careful with the painkillers. Don’t take them if you’re going to be driving. You’ll find enough money in this envelope so that you can take the week off. I’m sure Chris will understand. I know what you’re thinking, zaika, but don’t worry. I won’t be taking any of Chris’s fingers. He’s a smart man and decided to take the hint. I’m not cruel, Lydia, but I guess you’ll learn that in time.
I’ve been told you can eat your bodyweight in licorice, so I hope this is enough.
I’m always thinking about you,