Breaking Cycles

Chapter 4

Grant

"Come on Rick, I'm in the fucking hospital! I need to keep my insurance," I plead.

"You were the one that quit by leaving me a fucking voicemail," he reminds me making me cringe.

"I'm sorry. I had an emergency and had to leave without notice," I claim.

"Were you planning on coming back?" he questions.

I grind my teeth, knowing I can't lie to him. He was a great boss while I worked for him. "Rick," I begin apologetically.

"Save it," he grumbles. Heaving a sigh, he proposes, "Look, I can keep you on until the end of the month, but at the start of July, you will be removed. That gives you time to come up with something," he offers.

"Thanks," I mumble, wishing it could be longer, but it's better than nothing.

"Good luck to you, Grant," he states before disconnecting the call. I drop the phone next to me on the bed, growling in frustration.

"That bad?" my nurse Julie questions as she walks into the room.

Sighing, I meet her gaze. "It's fine. Thanks for letting me borrow your phone."

"You'll have to get yourself a new one. What's left of yours is in a zip lock in the drawer on your left," she informs me. I grimace in response, knowing I would've either gotten a new phone or cleared it anyway. "Your keys and wallet are in there too."

"Thanks," I mumble, my mind still stuck on what I'm going to do. "How long until these casts come off again?" I inquire.

"About another seven weeks," she advises.

"Shit," I grumble under my breath.

"Getting antsy already?" she prods.

I move to shake my head and flinch, a shock of pain moving through my right shoulder. I hiss through my teeth and concede, "Just trying to figure out work."

"What do you do?" she prompts.

"I'm a mechanic, motorcycles are my specialty," I reveal. "I need both of my hands to work," I emphasize.

She gives me a look of pity, making me cringe. I've had enough of that type of look to last me a lifetime. "That will be a while. After the casts come off, you will need therapy," she reiterates. "But everyone heals differently," she adds, attempting to soften the blow. "According to Dr. Magi, it appears you should be able to get out of here soon."

"Yeah," I mumble in agreement. "But that's only if I have someone to help me at home and I don't have anyone," I emphasize. "I don't even have a fucking home!"

"We do have a facility where we can move you to and the physical therapy will be done right in-house there," she advises. "Insurance normally partially covers it. You'd have to check with your insurance company to find out the details."

I gulp down the lump in my throat, hoping it will ease my anxiety. The more tense I am, the worse I feel. But what am I supposed to do with that information? I go there until the end of the month and then what? Then, they kick me out because I don't have insurance? "Fuck," I grumble under my breath. I can look into interim insurance, but I wonder if being in the middle of treatment will be an issue.

"Is this a bad time?" a sweet soft voice calls out.

Looking up, I meet her hesitant gaze and my lips curl up in a smile. She has her blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail on top of her head, bringing attention to her high cheekbones and blue eyes, appearing to be a darker shade of blue today. She's wearing faded cut off jean shorts and a pale blue t-shirt fitted to her curves, causing my mouth to water. "You came back," I announce the obvious, the sight of her helping to ease my pain.