Clay's morning was pretty uneventful. He woke up at his usual time for a Sunday, kissed Annie good morning and headed off to meet his mother at the stable.
Everything went off without a hitch for the first hour or so, until his horse was spooked by something or other and he was thrown off. He landed decently well and was able to roll away from the horse, however he did hear the sickening crunch of a bone breaking. Which bone was the question.
Porter took him to the hospital where he received the report, one broken left ankle and one decently serious concussion. She left her son alone for a few minutes when he mentioned Annie was probably worried since he was usually home by now.
Annie's tone when she answered the phone took Porter by surprise, "I assure you Ms. Walker, my son always has a good reason when he's late."
It would figure that the one time Annie didn't get a good look at her screen before answering, it'd be Porter Webb on the phone and not her son. 'And of course, I'd answer the phone like some drunken college girl and unlike the professional woman that I am. '
Annie took a deep breath and sank back against the counter, dressed in Webb's shirt from the night before and her underwear. She supposed it was a good thing that his mother couldn't see that. "Of course, Mrs. Webb. My apologies. Is he okay?"
The fact that Porter had responded with her own vaguely snarky reply and not something more serious led Annie to believe that Webb hadn't actually died. Anything else could be fixed. Probably.
For the rest of the conversation, Porter was the picture of composure. "Clayton had an accident. Caesar got spooked and he was thrown. Clayton's fine for the most part. He broke his left ankle and has a concussion."
"It's in a cast now. He should be fine in about eight weeks from what the doctors have said."
The rest of the conversation involved which hospital Clay was spending the rest of the day in as well as room numbers and his request for Annie to bring his glasses.
By the time their conversation was over, Annie's car was pulling out of the driveway, Clay's glasses on her passenger seat along with the book he'd had on his nightstand. She could be a decent girlfriend-or-whatever.
"I'm already on my way." Defensive driving scores aside, Annie knew how to navigate light Sunday traffic and it took her twenty minutes to park, another ten to make it to his room. "Look at you."
It was said with a sigh as she shook her head. "How's your head?"
There was a small smile on his face as he reached to take his glasses from Annie. When he could see again, his smile got a little bigger. "EMS ruined my boots."
"You are ridiculously pretentious," she told him as she pulled up a chair, still scanning his body for other signs of bruising and owies. Seeing him in the hospital didn't sit any better with her than it did the other way around.
Once she'd settled and taken his hand in hers, she sighed again. "You can get new ones. In eight weeks."
"I bet she did. Did she also tell you about our phone conversation?"
She lifted his hand and rested it against his cheek, not yet sure if she was going to insist on staying herself. Sunday nights usually consisted of getting ready for the week ahead.
"I was being flirtatious. I didn't know your mother was going to be on the other end of the phone. Considering how I could have answered, I'm glad that's all I said." Very glad. "And no..."
She dropped their hands and studied them hard. "I was having coffee."
Clay figured Annie wouldn't want his mother to know what they'd been doing the previous evening, and he was completely fine with that. "All she knows is that we usually have dinner together on Sundays."
"Me, too." She went back to nuzzling his hand. It was a far cry from what she wanted to do, which was crawl up onto the bed with him, so she sighed. "Need me to bring you something after work for dinner?"
Everything went off without a hitch for the first hour or so, until his horse was spooked by something or other and he was thrown off. He landed decently well and was able to roll away from the horse, however he did hear the sickening crunch of a bone breaking. Which bone was the question.
Porter took him to the hospital where he received the report, one broken left ankle and one decently serious concussion. She left her son alone for a few minutes when he mentioned Annie was probably worried since he was usually home by now.
Annie's tone when she answered the phone took Porter by surprise, "I assure you Ms. Walker, my son always has a good reason when he's late."
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It would figure that the one time Annie didn't get a good look at her screen before answering, it'd be Porter Webb on the phone and not her son. 'And of course, I'd answer the phone like some drunken college girl and unlike the professional woman that I am. '
Annie took a deep breath and sank back against the counter, dressed in Webb's shirt from the night before and her underwear. She supposed it was a good thing that his mother couldn't see that. "Of course, Mrs. Webb. My apologies. Is he okay?"
The fact that Porter had responded with her own vaguely snarky reply and not something more serious led Annie to believe that Webb hadn't actually died. Anything else could be fixed. Probably.
She hoped.
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"Do they have to do surgery or are they just putting it in a cast? How bad is the concussion? Which hospital, I'm coming down."
Annie was also composed, but she was speaking in a hurry as she went to get dressed.
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The rest of the conversation involved which hospital Clay was spending the rest of the day in as well as room numbers and his request for Annie to bring his glasses.
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"I'm already on my way." Defensive driving scores aside, Annie knew how to navigate light Sunday traffic and it took her twenty minutes to park, another ten to make it to his room. "Look at you."
It was said with a sigh as she shook her head. "How's your head?"
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There was a small smile on his face as he reached to take his glasses from Annie. When he could see again, his smile got a little bigger. "EMS ruined my boots."
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Once she'd settled and taken his hand in hers, she sighed again. "You can get new ones. In eight weeks."
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Clay did run his thumb over the back of Annie's knuckles. "Thank you for coming."
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She lifted his hand and rested it against his cheek, not yet sure if she was going to insist on staying herself. Sunday nights usually consisted of getting ready for the week ahead.
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Porter didn't provide him with any other details beyond that Annie was upset. "She wanted to know if you were making lunch."
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She dropped their hands and studied them hard. "I was having coffee."
Lunch? Psh.
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Clay figured Annie wouldn't want his mother to know what they'd been doing the previous evening, and he was completely fine with that. "All she knows is that we usually have dinner together on Sundays."
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She said it quietly as she leaned over to kiss his forehead. "I can't stay tonight, but I can stay for a while. Okay?"
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He was also sorry he wasn't going to spend his Sunday evening with Annie, but he supposed she knew that. He did take Annie's hand again though.
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