Burning Desire

Chapter Seven

{ A/N - I don't know much about hospitals, so sorry if any of this is technically incorrect. Please vote, comment and enjoy. }

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I hated hospitals. The clinical scent of disinfectant made my stomach churn with nausea, and the efficient cacophony of muffled machines beeping and strangled cries of pain resounded through my ear drums like a funeral hymn. Misplaced hope and suffocating fear ricocheted between the whitewashed walls that were studded with threatening posters containing information about mortal diseases. The hospital's corridors had heard more prayers than the stain-glass windows of churches; every breath felt more sacred within the hospital's confines.

The emergency room was surprisingly vacant, besides a middle-aged woman trying to quiet a screaming toddler and the nurse perched behind the receptionist desk. I sunk into a chair as Callum checked in with the receptionist, loping back with some paperwork. As he inquired about my basic information to fill out the forms, I glanced at the crying toddler, hoping that the child's lack of visible injuries meant that he was okay and his mother was a just overprotective.

"Reason for visit?" Callum said, twirling a pen between his fingers.

"Really?" I raised my eyebrows at Callum and held up my hand. The once smooth skin was tinted a bruised mauve and resembled a galaxy of popped blood vessels. Crimson tears poured from a wide slash on the back of my hand. Although pain seared through my digit with every movement, I was hoping that the injury looked worse than it actually was.

"I'll just put down 'horse riding accident'," Callum affirmed.

I made a small noise of confirmation and slid down in the chair so that the plastic gnawed at the back of my neck. My head was beginning to spin slightly with pain; Callum's figure seemed blurred at the edges as I watched him return the forms to the receptionist, who informed him that we'd be attended to shortly. After a minute or so, the mother and her toddler disappeared behind a set of double doors. The child's wailing faded, rather fittingly, like that of a departing ambulance.

"How are you?" Callum asked as he returned to his seat. His tone was soft, something I traced as concern lingering behind his words.

I let my eyes flicker closed as the pain throbbing in my head swelled. "Never been better."

"I take it things didn't go so well with Brenna?"

"They were going okay at first," I replied, my words slow and fumbled. "She was a bit apprehensive and sensitive...but she showed potential. She got spooked, that's all. She wasn't being a bitch on purpose."

Callum snorted. "Sure. It was probably accidentally on purpose."

"Thank God you were there to rescue me, though," I attempted to inject a bit of light-heartedness in my voice, but it escaped breathless and faint.

I could almost hear the smile in Callum's voice. Almost. "Your knight in shining armour."

"Something like that," a smile tugged at my lips in response.

A nurse called my name at that moment and my eyes fluttered open to see Callum staring at me, something unidentifiable burning behind those intoxicating faded cobalt irises. I rose to my feet shakily and he stood too, one muscled arm grabbing onto mine to stabilize me in a way that made me really notice that I had arms. I shuddered over to the nurse, leaning into Callum for support and breathing in his masculine, endearing scent that lingered faintly beneath the aroma of linseed oil and haylage. I look pointedly at the floor, partly because I felt too weak to walk straight and also because his gaze would be too intense to hold at this close proximity.

The nurse led us down a hallway and into a small examination room, where a doctor was washing her hands. She didn't look much older than me; her wispy blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she wore a tight smile that look as if it had been painted on her face permanently.

"What have we here?" she asked, her tone clipped.

"A horse riding accident," I responded.

"Injury?" the nurse questioned, glancing down at her clipboard before answering her own question. "Suspected torn ligament and severe bruising. Take a seat, Miss Evans."

I tried to keep the wincing to a minimum as the doctor cleaned the wound, stitched it up and dressed it in a white bandage. Callum stood by the door, arms folded over his chest in a way that made his muscles protrude beneath his tanned skin, as he stared pointedly at a poster on the wall exhibiting the symptoms of meningitis.

"You're going to need an x-ray to assess the severity of the injury, but my assumptions so far are that it's only a Grade 1 sprain."

"How long will it take to heal?" I inquired, my teeth cruising over my bottom lip in anticipation of the answer. "When will I be allowed to ride again?"

"It should take a few weeks to heal, at most. But I would advise you not to participate in any equestrian sports for at least a month, to ensure the ligament repairs itself properly. We'll put your hand in a cast to immobilise the wrist for a short while to speed up the recovery process."

My heart sighed in my chest at the thought of not being able to ride for a long time. Even though it was a demanding and dangerous sport, I harboured a strong adoration for it. I'd acquired many horse riding injuries during my life, and each time it was the riding-free recovery period that seemed to hurt more than the actual injury.

"How long is a 'short while'?" Callum asked, cinders of frustration evidently straining his tone.

"About week, or so. Depending on how badly torn the ligament is."

Callum's jaw tightened, and my head spun slightly in a way that was unrelated to the injury on my hand. "Is there anything you can do to speed up the recovery process?"

"I'm afraid that the best remedy for mild-to-moderate wrist sprains is time, sir," the nurse replied. Her tone was smooth and patient, which only contrasted with Callum's impatience.

"Really?" he sounded incredulous. "There's no medicine you could administer?"

"If there was I would have already mentioned it, sir," she replied, her smile tight and wavering at the edges.

"You're not even going to give her some Advil? Not even some ice?" his voice was low with frustration. Had I not had my mouth clamped shut to prevent the bile from crawling up my throat I would have told him to calm down.

"Sir, I am a fully qualified doctor. I would advise you to let me do my job," she gave him a withering look.

"Do it better," he muttered under his breath, barely audible, only just reaching my ears.

Despite the concern Callum had displayed for my injury, I felt the embers of frustration I harboured towards him ignite once again. He was so used to charming people into getting whatever he wanted – so used to opportunities rushing up to greet him - that being told 'no' came as a shock to him. It seemed to me that he'd never had to work for anything in his life, and for that I resented him.

"If you'd like to follow me into the x-ray examination room, we'll assess the injury," the nurse ushered, still wearing her plastered smile. I rose shakily to my feet, trying to meet Callum's gaze as I shuffled past. His gaze flickered over me and this time the concern floating amongst the azure oceans in his irises was evident, undeniable. And in that moment, some of the resentment I harboured towards him evaporated slightly.