Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“This might hurt a little,” the doctor said.
Then he grabbed hold of the poor man’s ball and started twisting.
He twisted Baylor’s entire testicle not once, but twice.
I’d never heard a sound like that leave a grown man’s throat, but I’d remember it forever.
It’d stay with me, awake or in sleep, for as long as I lived.
But, moments after that sound started, it abruptly broke off, leaving nothing but silence and relief in its wake.
“Better?”
Baylor let out a relieved, shaky breath, meaning he’d let go of my hip fat with his teeth, and nodded his head.
“Yeah.”
“Excellent,” the doctor said. “Pain has ebbed off?”
Baylor gave a single nod. “Almost completely.”
“Well,” the doctor said. “In that case, I’m going to give you something for the swelling and instructions to follow up with your primary care provider within a week. If the pain or swelling returns or increases, come back immediately.”
With that, the doctor gently let Baylor’s poor abused ball slip from his fingers, stripped his gloves off, and walked out without even using hand sanitizer on the way.
I stared at the doctor, relieved to find his first stop the communal sink that was in the corner of the ER.
Thank God.
I was a hand washing fanatic.
It seriously grossed me out when people didn’t wash their hands. Almost to the point where I would have to go wash mine just to feel clean again.
“Would you mind telling my brother and his wife that I’m okay?” Baylor croaked.
Without making eye contact with Baylor or his still exposed lower half, I slipped out of the room, closing the door behind me as I went.
Something the doctor should’ve done, but didn’t.
I assumed due to the fact that we were in a corner room, making it nearly impossible for anyone to see in unless they were supposed to be in the room in the first place.
The moment that I was out of the room and down the hall, I head for the first hand sanitizer station and thoroughly coated my hands and the upper parts of my forearms before taking a deep breath.
I could do this.
I could do this.
I maybe couldn’t do this.
When Baylor had started to vomit, I’d run across the street and pounded on the door that he’d said belonged to his brother.
A man had answered the door, looking alarmed, and I pointed at where Baylor had been doubled over in the grass.
Travis had taken one look at his brother and started to run. His wife, Hannah I’d later learned, had appeared moments later and followed her husband out the door.
I’d followed behind them and had then ridden with Travis and Baylor to the hospital minutes later.
While Baylor had buried his face in my lap as he tried to control the pain, his brother had tossed me murderous glances in the rearview mirror the entire way to the hospital.
To say I wanted to speak to the man would be a lie.
I wanted nothing more than to skip telling the man that his brother was okay and head straight out the hospital doors.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t a coward.
I would tell Travis that his brother was all right.
I would wait until Baylor was released, and I would make sure he was okay in a day or two.
Even if I would burst into flames while doing it.
I’d seen the man’s dick.
There was no way I’d ever be able to look him in the eyes again.
Coming to a halt right outside the waiting room doors, I pushed through them and came to a halt when not one, not two, but dozens of people waited.
At first, I assumed that they were there for different patients.
However, when all of them stood up and started coming at me at once, I took a step back.
“Is he okay?”
That was from Tate Casey.
I had no idea why I called him by his full name, but since everyone else referred to him as such, I did, too.
Tate worked with Baylor and had been the one who repossessed my car for the second time a few weeks ago.
Hennessy, my new friend and Krisney’s best friend, had been there the day that it’d happened.
At the time, I hadn’t realized that Hennessy and the man who’d repoed my car had a relationship, but now, seeing Hennessy hanging on Tate Casey’s arm with a worried expression on her face, it was plain to see.
“Uhh, yeah. He’s fine,” I murmured. “They were able to fix it. The doctor said he had testicular torsion. That’s when the testicle twists in the, errrm, sac. It causes blood flow to stop to the scrotum.”
Every single man in the entire room winced.
I, not having testicles myself, couldn’t really relate.
But I had seen with my own eyes the amount of pain the poor man had been in.
Though, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why the hell they were all here. He’d had ball problems, not heart problems.