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“Ask Tobi yourself. Here she comes.”
She hoped Tobi would be a little less resentful of her than Travis was. Tobi reached them and greeted her, then turned to Travis. “He’s got a broken arm, a couple of broken ribs and contusions on his leg and torso. They’ve ruled out a concussion, so that’s good. He’ll probably need surgery on his arm, but he’ll need to see an orthopedist about that.”
“Can I see him?”
Tobi looked uncomfortable. “I can ask him. But…don’t be surprised if he says no. He’s feeling pretty bad.” She left to ask him.
“Considering what his car looks like it’s a freaking miracle his injuries aren’t more severe,” Travis said.
His car. His beautiful car he thought of as his baby. “His car is—”
“Totaled,” Travis said.
“But he’s going to be all right.”
“Sounds like it,” he said grudgingly.
Tobi came back. “You can go in,” she told Damaris. “Cubicle two.”
*
Nate had been tempted to have Tobi tell Damaris that he didn’t want to see her, but he figured that would make him too much of a chickenshit so he said okay. But he didn’t want to see her and, in fact, wondered why the hell she was even there.
They were over. Done. Had she come out of pity? If so, screw that.
There wasn’t much of him that didn’t hurt. His arm hurt like a son of a bitch. He had cuts on his face from broken glass but those didn’t bother him much. His ribs though, hell, they hurt even more than his arm. He supposed the fact that he didn’t have a punctured lung was something to be thankful for but he drew the line at lucky, which is what one of the techs had told him.
Lucky? He didn’t feel lucky. Not one damn bit.
“I won’t ask how you are. You look like hell.”
He turned to look at her. She was in her work clothes. Jeans, boots, and a T-shirt with Walker Paints emblazoned on it. Damn it, he couldn’t look at her without wanting her. Without regretting what could have been but now there wasn’t a chance of it happening. It irritated the shit out of him. That, coupled with the pain he was in made him snarl at her. “Thanks. Why the hell are you here?”
“Travis asked me to talk to your grandma. I wanted to find out how you were before I went to see her.”
“Fine. You’ve seen me. Now go away.”
“Do you really hate me that much?”
No, damn it, he didn’t hate her at all. “No. It would be easier if I did,” he answered truthfully. “Do me a favor and tell Grandma I’m fine. She doesn’t need to know everything.”
“You’ll have to talk to her, you know. She won’t be satisfied with only what I tell her.”
“I’ll call her. Later.” He glared at her, which, no surprise, she ignored. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”
“Not yet.” She walked over to stand next to him. “I told Travis and I’ll tell you, I still care about you.”
She cared about him. Whoopee. He ignored her comment. “Do you know what happened to my car?”
“Don’t you?”
“Not really. By the time they got me out of the car—” something he mercifully only had sketchy memories of “—I was concentrating on not passing out. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Travis says it’s totaled.”
“Shit. I loved that car.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.” She touched his uninjured arm. “I’m so glad you’re going to be all right. Can I do anything for you?”
