Riveted

I took up two parking spaces. I felt bad about it for a second and then rationalized we would be leaving soon, so it really didn’t matter. I was going to have to pull the mammoth machine around to the front when they wheeled Elma out in the wheelchair she was going to be confined to for the next few weeks anyways. I didn’t envy the physical therapist or the home care nurse that were going to be spending the next six weeks getting Elma Mae back on her feet. The feisty white-haired terror was going to put everyone through their paces during her recovery.

I maneuvered my way through the small hospital, acutely aware that I was drawing a lot of curious looks that I hadn’t been on the receiving end of yesterday. It could have been the very obvious sex hair I was rocking. It could have been the fact that without Church by my side I was an unfamiliar face in a place where everyone seemed to know everyone else. Or more than likely it could have been my tightly fitted T-shirt that had a cow on the front with the words “I’m Not in the Mooooooood” printed below it. I thought it was cute and kind of funny but the side eyes and the lifted eyebrows from everyone I passed indicated they didn’t share my quirky sense of humor.

I actually owned a closet full of normal, non-hilarious clothes but they weren’t things I wanted to roll into a ball and shove into a backpack that may or may not have ended up sliding across asphalt. In fact, my ridiculous T-shirts were a big hit at the bar when I wore them. They were a conversation starter and it gave the guys that were going to stare at my boobs anyways an actual reason to have their gazes locked on my chest. So as silly as they were I had no plan on ditching them, no matter how many turned-up noses and divisive snorts were fired my way. Plus, Church didn’t seem to mind them, not that I would retire them even if they were suddenly a deal breaker. I would miss his dick, but I would miss that little piece of me even more.

I knocked on the door to the room where Elma Mae had been the day before and braced myself as a sweetly southern “Y’all come on in” came my way. I knew she wasn’t going to like the fact she was stuck with me instead of her boy but I was determined to put on a happy face and force the old battle-ax to like me.

“Hi, Elma Mae. Church ran into an emergency with Dalen, so he asked me to come and get you. Sorry you’re stuck with the Yankee.” She was sitting up in the bed much like she had been yesterday only today instead of kittens, her top had owls on it. Not just owls, but owls wearing headphones. Owls that were apparently waiting for the bass to drop. I couldn’t stop the little laugh that escaped, but it died almost immediately as Elma narrowed her eyes at me as she took in my messy hair and casual attire.

“Well, bless your heart, dear. You didn’t have to rush over and get me without taking the time to get ready. I’m not going anywhere with this busted stump.” She sounded sweet but I’d been around Asa and his sister, Ayden, enough to know that when anyone from the south blessed anything they weren’t actually sanctifying you or praying for your well-being. The opposite of that was actually true. “Bless” pretty much meant “eff you and the horse you rode in on.” I wasn’t gaining any brownie points with Elma Mae.

“Church didn’t want you waiting around when you finally got your walking papers, so I hurried over. Do you need to see the doc before we spring you?” I refused to let any kind of annoyance at her rudeness show. My smile stayed firmly in place and I used the same placating tone I often employed when I had to talk a drunk into giving up their last drink when it was time to shut the bar down. It rarely failed me, but Elma gave me a sharp smile that let me know she knew exactly what I was doing. There would be no killing her with kindness, at least not today.

“No need to bother the doctor. He’s a busy man. Let me just call the nurse so they can bring the chair and help me into it. I need to be home before noon. That’s when the home nurse and the physical therapist are showing up to get my house invalid ready. What happened to Dalen? Did he get hurt at practice? I keep telling Julian that football is too violent. That boy is too smart and too handsome to be rolling around in the mud with the rest of the boys his age.” I opened my mouth to deflect, to give a vague explanation as to what constituted an emergency serious enough that Church couldn’t be here when it was what he had come home to do, but before I could she pointed a finger at me and told me, “Don’t you piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining, girl. You tell me where my boys are, and if they’re okay or not.”

I cringed at the visual her words conjured and cleared my throat. “Umm, well, I wouldn’t ever piss on anyone’s leg, so you’re safe.”

She gave an exasperated sigh and tossed her thin arms up in the air. “It means don’t lie to me, child. I can see the wheels turning under that mane on the top of your head.”

I subconsciously lifted a hand to my curls and tugged on one until it straightened and sprung back. This lady was tough as nails. I’d never had anyone be so overtly nasty to me before, well, aside from the third-wheel mother that tagged along on that date from hell. I sighed and gave her as much of the story as I could.

“Dalen skipped a class this morning and ran into some trouble. It sounded like some other guys surrounded him and started a fight. He was roughed up and worried about getting his friends in trouble if he called the cops or went back to school. Jules was out at something called the Holler, so Church had to go get him. He’s angry, really angry. The guys that messed with Dalen picked the wrong little brother to mess with, because his big brother is back home and not going to tolerate that kind of hate or ugliness.”