Chapter 50
SOPHIA’S POV
The hospital visit dragged on for two hours. I sat on the examination table while the doctor studied my X-rays against the light box. He pointed to the area where everything looked swollen and angry.
“No fracture,” he said. “But it’s a bad sprain. You’ll need to stay off it completely for at least a week p>
I was relieved. The doctor wrapped my ankle tightly in an elastic bandage. He showed me how to use the crutches, demonstrating the proper technique. I tried them once in the examination room.
Lance stood against the wall the entire time, watching me. When the doctor finished, Lance collected my pain medication from the pharmacy downstairs.
After that, Lance drove me home.
Lance pulled up to my parents’ house just as the sun was setting.
“I’ll carry you inside,” he said.
“No.” I softened my tone. “I have crutches. I can manage p>
He looked at the front of the house. “The steps to the front door are steep p>
“I’ll be careful p>
He got out anyway. I watched him walk around to my side.
He opened the door for me then offered me his hand. I took it. I tried to stand on my good foot, putting all my weight on my left leg. I wobbled immediately. The world tilted.
“Easy,” Lance said.
I grabbed the crutches from where he’d propped them against the seat. They were awkward in my hands. I hadn’t used crutches before. Lance steadied me as I tried to position them under my arms.
“This is ridiculous,” he said. “Let me help you properly p>
“I can do it p>
I took one hop forward. Pain shot through my ankle. I gasped. The crutches slipped and I felt myself falling.
Lance caught me again. “Enough. You need help. Pride isn’t worth injuring yourself worse p>
I looked at the front steps. He was right. There were at least eight of them, maybe more. I sighed in defeat. My wolf whined inside me, hating this weakness.
“Fine,” I said. “But no carrying. You can support me. Help me walk p>
“Deal p>
He positioned himself beside me. I wrapped my arm over his shoulders then leaned my weight against him. We moved slowly toward the house.
Before I could press the doorbell, the door flew open. Klara stood there with a smile and wide eyes.
“Aunt Sophia!” she squealed. Then she noticed Lance. Her mouth formed a perfect O. She stared up at him, her eyes going even wider. “Who’s the super handsome gentleman p>
My face burned. Heat rushed to my cheeks so fast I felt dizzy. “Klara p>
Lance laughed.
“You look like a prince from my storybooks,” she announced, tilting her head back to look at Lance. “Tall and handsome and everything. Are you Aunt Sophia’s boyfriend p>
I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “Klara, hush p>
Lance smiled down at her. He crouched to her level.
“Handsome gentleman is very nice,” he said to Klara. “But you should call me Mr. Lance. Can you do that p>
Klara nodded seriously. “Mr. Lance p>
“Very good. You’re very smart p>
Klara beamed at the praise. Then she grabbed his free hand with both of hers.
“Mr. Lance should come inside. I’ll show you my drawings. I drew a princess and a dragon and the princess has a sword p>
Lance looked at me. I shrugged helplessly. Klara was impossible to refuse when she got like this.
We entered the house. My mother appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face showed immediate concern when she saw my wrapped ankle. She looked confused as she noticed Lance.
“Mom, this is Lance,” I said quickly. “My former colleague from the hospital. He helped me today after I got hurt p>
My mother’s expression softened. She came forward. “Thank you so much for taking care of our Sophia. I’m Annette p>
“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” Lance said.
My father appeared from the living room then. He took one look at the situation and frowned.
“What happened?” he asked.
Lance explained briefly. My mother fussed over me immediately.
“Lance, please help Sophia to the couch,” she said. “Carefully now p>
He did exactly that. He moved slowly across the living room, supporting me with each step. My wolf was far too aware of every point of contact between us.
When we reached the couch, he settled me carefully on the cushions. His hands were gentle as he lifted my injured foot and propped it on the throw pillows. My mother appeared with a bag of ice wrapped in a kitchen towel.
“You’re very kind,” she said to Lance, pressing the ice against my ankle. I hissed at the cold. “Most people wouldn’t go to such trouble for a friend p>
“It’s nothing,” Lance said. “Sophia’s my friend. Friends help each other p>
My father had been watching this entire exchange. I saw something shift in his expression. Dad was hard to read sometimes, but I knew that look. It was the same one he gave Marco when my brother did something that impressed him.
My mother straightened up. “You have to stay for dinner p>
“Oh, I don’t want to impose,” Lance said quickly. “You’ve been more than welcoming already p>
“Nonsense. We have plenty. I’m making pot roast p>
“Mom-” I started.
“We’d like you to stay,” my father added. “We want to thank you properly for taking care of our daughter p>
Lance looked at me. I could see the question in his eyes. Part of me wanted to tell him it was okay to leave. That he’d done enough. But another part of me, a bigger part, wanted him to stay. I nodded.
“Alright,” Lance agreed. “Thank you p>
Klara cheered like she’d won something. She immediately grabbed Lance’s hand with both of hers. “Come see my drawings, Mr. Lance! Come on p>
She dragged him toward the hallway. He went willingly, letting this tiny seven-year-old girl pull him along. My mother smiled as she watched them go.
“He seems nice,” she said to me. “Very nice p>
“He is p>
She gave me a knowing look. The same look she’d given me when I was sixteen and had a crush on a boy in my class. “He cares about you p>
“Mom, it’s not like that p>
She hummed in a teasing tone. The sound said she didn’t believe me for a second. Then she returned to the kitchen, leaving me alone with my father.
“How do you really feel?” he asked.
“My ankle hurts p>
“That’s not what I meant p>
I went quiet. I knew what he was asking. I just didn’t know how to answer. My father sighed and set his newspaper aside.
“This Lance seems like a good man,” he said carefully. “Better than Damien, at least p>
I flinched at the name. “I don’t want to talk about Damien p>
“Fair enough.” My father nodded slowly. “But you deserve someone who treats you well. Who looks at you the way that boy does p>
“Dad p>
“I’m just saying what I see p>
I didn’t know what to say to that.