Heartless: A Small Town Single Dad Romance(89)

“Like Summer’s sister, Winter?” I blurt because I’ve heard stories about this woman. Summer’s estranged sister. Like major family drama levels of estranged. Rhett told me about the blow up one day over a few beers, and it sounds like it’s out of a daytime soap opera to me.

Fucking rich city people, man.

“Yes.” Her lips thin, and her heels click against the floor as she shuts the door. “The one and only.

I’m sure you’ve heard only good things,” she says dryly before adding, “but I promise your fingers are in excellent hands, Mr. Eaton.”

Hoo boy. Another woman who could use someone to tell her some good things about herself. I watch her tense movements, the way her lips purse when she glances at Willa. She looks like Summer, but also not at all.

Winter and Summer . . . whoever did that to them deserves a kick to the balls.

“Winter, how are you? What are you doing here?” Willa asks, her voice soft and wary as the petite woman pulls on a pair of latex gloves.

Winter ignores her questions. It’s like they don’t even register on her face.

“Let’s see your fingers, Mr. Eaton.” She holds her hand out to me and I put it in hers, wincing as I do. Her dainty fingers prod so gently that I barely even feel them. “Both fingers are broken. The breaks are fairly clean, but from what I can see on the X-rays, there are some bone chips floating in there. We could do a surgical repair—”

“I don’t—”

She cuts me right back off with a pointed look. “I’m still speaking.” Good God, this woman is

kind of terrifying. I clamp my mouth shut and widen my eyes to tell her she can go on.

“Like I was saying, we could operate and tidy things up immediately, but my inclination is to avoid surgery when possible. So the other option is to splint these and let them heal. Hope those chips sort of dissolve on their own and see how you feel. If they’re still causing issues, we can operate down the road. It’s a trade-off. Heal faster now in the hopes you don’t need surgery later, or still have issues and be laid out twice. It’s up to you.”

She’s very direct, very matter-of-fact. Some people might think her bedside manner leaves something to be desired, but I kind of like her. She speaks to me like I’m capable of making a decision, and she isn’t pushing treatment down my throat.

Her voice is gentler than I expected based on the stories I heard, and her eyes less vicious.

They’re more . . . sad. Rimmed with dark circles.

“There are physiotherapy options and alternative health options that can help with rehabilitation from an injury like this,” she carries on, scribbling on the chart before her.

“Alternative health options?” I ask, scrunching my face.

She pulls her gloves off with a snap to write something down on her chart. “I’d recommend acupuncture to start,” she replies without even looking up at me.

“Okay.” I glance at Willa, who is still staring at her best friend’s sister, almost like she’s seen a ghost. “Let’s go the more conservative route.”

“Great.” She smiles but it’s pained. “I’ll get someone in here to fix you up and then you can be on your way. I’m sure you’re tired of waiting.” She stands and marches out the door, the picture of unaffected professionalism.

But Willa takes off after her.





31



Willa

Summer: Is Cade okay?

Willa: Yes. A couple of broken fingers. Will need 6-8 weeks to heal. So he’ll be an extra grumpy bitch for the foreseeable future.

Summer: Could have been worse. Luke is asleep. All good here.

Willa: Hey, Sum, has Winter responded to any of your messages?

Summer: No. I keep sending them anyway. I know she’s reading them. Why?

Willa: Because she’s our doctor tonight.

Summer: How does she look?

Willa: Sad.

“W inter,” I whisper-shout as I follow her down the beige hallway with a random green stripe down the middle of the wall. Why the hell do hospitals do that? It doesn’t make them any more appealing. “Winter, stop.”

Summer has been trying to contact her for a year but gets shut down at every turn. I’m not leaving this hospital before I talk to her.

She rounds the corner but stops in a little alcove that plays host to a couple of vending machines.

“What?” she snaps primly, nose tipped up as she stares down at her nails.

I’ve known Winter since we were teenagers. When Summer was in the hospital, we spent some time together. Winter isn’t as bad as everyone has made her out to be. She’s been dealt a shit hand.

One that money and education can’t undo. What Winter is missing is love.

I stare at her, breathing more heavily than the distance I just covered warrants. “I just want to give you a hug,” I say.

Her long lashes blink slowly, and she’s forced to look up at me because these sisters stopped growing at like twelve or something. “A hug?”

I realize now how rough she looks. Too thin. Too tired.

“Yes, girl.” I open my arms. “Get your scrawny ass over here.”

She glances away for a moment, like the bag of hickory sticks in the vending machine is super interesting. And then her shoulders droop and without meeting my eyes, she steps into my arms.