Chapter 13
I was afraid to look.
I’d seen the unnatural angle of my foot as I’d been dragged from the wreckage that was my car, and I’d known the break was bad. The pain had been excruciating, and I’d sworn up a blue streak, because if I hadn’t, I’d have been full-out crying—something I hadn’t done since my mum had died—and begging to be put out of my misery.
When I came out of the anaesthetic—and after I’d thrown up once or twice—I realised I couldn’t move my lower leg.
I feared the worst.
Because I was so afraid, I forced myself to angle up on an elbow and peer down the length of my body.
It was still there. Encased in plaster from my knee to my toes, but it was still bloody there.
I covered my eyes so no one would see the weak tears that gathered there.
“There, there, luv,” a so
