“Good.” He nodded to Wind and Willow. “Hey, Wind. You and Willow need to step out.”
“They’re fine,” I said, needing them to stay. I was going to get a second round of bad news, I could tell, so I wanted them there.
My dad sat on the edge of my bedside and gave the sheriff a nod.
“You were driving past curfew. You know that’s a ticketable offense.” Sheriff Booker crossed his bulky arms over his even bulkier chest.
The guy could have been The Rock’s stunt double; he looked so much like him.
“But it was—”
He put up his hand, effectively silencing me. “It was an accident. Just barely past midnight. First offense…”
At least the first time I’d been caught.
“So I’m going to do for you and your friend what I’d do for any kids in this situation.” He dipped his chin, holding my gaze. “You’ll serve your community service through the school.”
“Community service?” I asked.
“We’ll still file a report for insurance reasons, but we’re not issuing tickets, so yes, community service at your school.” Sheriff Booker smiled. “You and your new friend will do whatever your school principal needs for no less than twenty hours. I’ve worked out the details with your father.”
“I have to serve with Grace?”
Sheriff Booker gave a curt nod. “You two are going to be spending a lot of time together, son.”
Chapter Four
Grace
“Six to eight weeks?” I winced as I held up my splinted right wrist. “I don’t have that much time to waste in this thing! And how am I going to be able to complete my community service with it on?”
The sheriff had just left the room after dropping the bombshell that to avoid getting an official ticket, I had to serve the community service hours at school.
With freaking Preach or Ryan or whatever the hell his name was.
The guy who put me in this situation.
And now, Dr. Jackson was standing here, telling me I had to wear this brace for six to eight weeks?
The small hospital room felt like it was shrinking. I inhaled sharply, the air, which had been sweetened by the Stargazer lilies Chester the Dog’s parents sent, made a hissing sound as it passed through my lips. I wanted to get up and sprint out of there, but I was hooked up to an IV and stuck in this uncomfortable hospital bed.
My dad put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He had to leave me here alone last night after I was admitted to help Mom with the kids. He’d only gotten here a few minutes before the sheriff and Dr. Jackson showed up.
Woodhaven didn’t have a hospital, so the ambulance took me to some town, like, thirty minutes away.
“This is a temporary splint, something to keep you comfortable until we can get you into a customized one made by a hand therapist. You suffered a crush injury to the ulnar nerve, Grace.” Dr. Jackson, the orthopedic surgeon on call, pointed to my MRI results on her iPad. Her long black hair was pulled into a ponytail at the base of her neck. Her brown eyes scanned the iPad screen as she positioned her pen near a spot on the MRI image. “Right here. That’s significant swelling.”
I gulped and fought back tears. “How long will it take to get better? I’m leaving for basic training in June.”
“Speedy, we have to focus on getting you better. We’ll get an extension. We’ll figure it out.” Dad rubbed my back.
“It’s not okay,” I insisted. “I can’t feel my ring finger or pinky!”
In fact, there’s absolutely nothing okay about it.
“We’ll call the recruiter tomorrow and get him involved. He’ll walk us through the process.” My dad shot another glance at the doctor’s iPad. “And we’ll get physical therapy set up.”
“We’ll get her an eval on Monday with a physical therapist who is a Certified Hand Therapist. She will get her molded for a splint. They’ll decide what to start and when. We’ll need to watch this swelling; it has to go down before she begins rehabbing the hand.”