Chapter Eleven Wade

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Wade

I couldn't tell you why I insisted on getting Ivy's life story on the drive here. I'm breaking my employer/employee barrier more and more every day with her. I also couldn't tell you why I sat right beside her for an hour while she waited to see a doctor, making uninteresting conversation about the Ice Road Truckers episodes that played in the waiting room. Or why I agreed to stay in the actual room with her while she saw the doctor. I didn't question it; I just did it. I stayed while the doctor pressed and prodded at her ankle, and now I'm waiting, right outside the room while they x-ray her.

I just need to know she's okay, because it happened at the ranch. The last thing I need is a workplace injury complaint—at least that's what I tell myself as I'm still sitting here.

"It's just a mild sprain. But you should stay off of it for a few days, maybe even a week, if you want it to heal as quickly as possible. Keep it elevated. Only really walk when you have to, and get some crutches for the first few days." The doctor gives his diagnosis and treatment as Ivy nods, listening intently.

"A light compression will help with support, and you can start walking on it more as your pain allows. Take ibuprofen if you need to for pain." He looks between me and Ivy. "Do you have someone to help you get around?" he asks.

"I—I can't train effectively until it's healed anyway." She looks up at me with big blue eyes. "I could go stay with my mama, I suppose. Take a break and rest. Good thing it's my left foot, I could make the drive." So she can look after her mother while she tries to heal? Don't think so.

"It'll be me. I'm helping her. She lives on my ranch," I say without even thinking, as Ivy's eyes meet mine in question across the room.

Her mouth falls open to speak but the doctor beats her to it.

"Good," he says, seeming satisfied, giving Ivy pamphlets on healing time and R.I.C.E. treatment. He smiles a friendly smile at Ivy. "The more you take care of it in the first few days, the better it will be. If it gets worse or isn't healed up in a few weeks, come back and see us."

He exits the room before his last words have even left his mouth, already looking into the folder for his next case in the busy ER.

He isn't gone one second before Ivy turns her gaze to meet mine.

"Wade. How can you help? You can't come over every day for a week . I'll just go home to Jellico for a few days. You can pause my pay. This isn't your problem—" She's rambling, not unlike the first day I met her.

I sigh, putting my hand over hers in her lap, just to settle her. She's a sight right now, damp hair all pulled up, her sugar scent mixed with rain, her huge icy eyes looking up at me, all the while her small frame drowning in my winter coat.

Fucking hell . I'm about to make a colossal mistake but I just can't stop myself.

"You'll just stay with me at my cabin for the first few days," I say.

Her eyes grow as wide as saucers in her pretty face. "Wha—how?"

"It's the easiest way. I have two bedrooms. You'll even have your own bathroom. Just until you're on your feet of course, a week tops. I never even use that side of the house. There are crutches at the big house already from when CeCe was a teenager. They'll fit you just right, I'm sure. You can use those when you need … er … privacy, the facilities and what not."

Smooth, Wade .

The last thing I need is her in my space tempting me even more than she already does, but apparently I'm a sucker for punishment.

"I need you to be better, so it has to be this way. We have to be in Nashville in less than two weeks." Am I going overboard acting like she needs twenty-four-hour care for a sprained ankle? Probably, but no going back now.

She still doesn't speak and I wonder if I just crossed a line.

"You can't be on your own, and if we're being real, hobbling around your own place will probably just offer you another way to take yourself out," I bite out, using my dad's voice, the one none of us ever argued with.

Again, real smooth, Wade. Christ. What the fuck am I doing?

I stand quickly and scrub my face with my hand, ready to apologize for making her uncomfortable.

"Okay. I'm not going to argue with you," she says quietly.

Oh.

"I need the help, doctor's orders, and I want to be in top shape to go to Nashville and this stupid mistake was my fault so … okay, I'll stay with you." She blinks and then gives me a shy smile. "Roomie?" she adds.

The grateful, melty look on her face sucker punches me right in the chest.

"Okay," I say, nodding my head. I haven't thought this far ahead, so I move robotically, helping her into the wheelchair the hospital has provided to get her to my truck.

A million thoughts race through my head, the most prevalent one being … I am entirely fucked.