Page 4 of Forever and Always

Her voice rose in agitation.

“So I whipped around and punched the asshole in the face. Broke his nose.”

“Atta girl,” I said admiringly.

She winced. “Turns out he’s a cop. Off duty, but that didn’t stop him from having his buddies arrest me. Now the asshole says he’s pressing assault charges.”

“All right, let me see what I need to do to bail you out,” I said.

“I’m sorry to call you,” Katy said. “You’re the only lawyer I know.”

I wasn’t technically a criminal attorney, but I wasn’t going to leave her hanging. And I certainly wasn’t going to leave her in some hellhole jail with a bunch of criminals.

After calling for the guard, I headed out to the front to pay Katy’s bail. They brought her up a little while later, and she sent me a look that was so filled with gratitude and relief it was all I could do not to pull her into my arms.

“Come on, I’ll take you home,” I said.

“Thanks, Andrew. I really appreciate this.”

I followed Katy’s directions to her townhouse on the north side of town. She lived on one end of a long row of skinny, modern looking homes. The first floor was the garage and entry way, with an open plan living room, dining and kitchen area on the second floor and two bedrooms and a bathroom on the third floor.

“You have to stay in my guest room,” she said. “It’s the least I can do after you came all the way out here.”

It was going on midnight and I was exhausted, so I didn’t argue. Katy set me up in her guest room and I changed into some sweats and a tee shirt that I had in my car for emergencies.

I settled into bed, staring at the ceiling, and heard the water turn on in the bathroom next door. Katy was taking a shower, no doubt washing off the blood and the grossness of the jail. I thought I heard her cry out and I sat up, listening carefully. When I didn’t hear anything else I told myself I’d just imagined it. A few minutes later I heard her pad across the hallway, then the door to her bedroom closed.

I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, content for the first time since Katy drove out of my life eighteen months ago.

When I woke up in the morning, she was at the dining room table drinking coffee, an ice pack resting on her hand.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” I asked, frowning at the ice pack.

“I guess I hurt it somehow when I punched that guy,” Katy said, lifting it up to show me. “It’s all bruised and swollen, and I can’t move my pinkie or my ring finger. It hurts like hell.”

I moved closer to take a look. “Shit. We should get you to the emergency room, that looks bad.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she said dismissively. “There’s no way I want to spend six hours in the ER and get a twelve hundred dollar bill for them to tell me to ice and elevate it. I just took some ibuprofen, that should help. Let me get you some coffee.”

Fucking U.S. healthcare system. People should not be making decisions to seek care based on cost.

Katy reached into the cabinet with her right hand, then cried out and dropped the cup she’d picked up. It fell into the sink with a crash.

“Damn it!”

“That’s it,” I said firmly. “We’re going to the ER.”

She sighed deeply. “Let’s try Urgent Care first. It’s cheaper.”