The Coldest Knee Ice Pack Novels & Stories

Hot meal, cold meal, or a bullet in the head? Emma tried aiming her feet toward the cabin in spite of herself. The numbing cold riddling her body started to evaporate, replaced by a warm tickle that could only be the first touch of frostbite. She imagined her thumb trying to pull back the hammer on the Ruger only to snap off. God fucking damn it!

I cradled my daughter's lifeless body, the pain embedded so deep that I could not even find the tears to cry. The doctor's words haunted me. "If only you'd been ten minutes earlier, maybe she could've been saved." Out of nowhere, my wife Sheila Chapman's call broke through, my hands shaking as I picked up. "Hey, Tristan, it's just you and the kiddo for dinner tonight. I can't make it back. Jeff's down with a nasty fever, hit thirty-nine degrees. It's pretty bad."

He got a hold of a piece of cloth that he wrapped around cubes of ice that he got from the mini-fridge in his room. He placed my foot on a leg rest and gently started pressing the ice on my injury. The coldness of the ice soothed the pain in an instant. I felt relieved that the pain was reducing. I felt so much better than before! Right then, my eyes landed on Jack, only to find him giving full attention and focus on my injury. I looked at him while the breeze from the ocean which was quite near the resort blew over, making his blonde hair and black shirt dance. Why was he doing this for me? I wondered if Sam and Jessica would have done the same for me if they found me injured.

With a prayer that I was doing this right, I smashed my thumbs against the bumpy part right in the middle. With a shriek that hurt my own ears and a quick sickly roll of my tummy, I could finally breathe through my nose. Searching through my pack of stuff, I saw a disposable ice pack. Breaking the interior thingamabob that made it cold, I shook it. Once it was freezing my fingers off, I placed it against my face. My eyes fluttered shut on a sigh as the cold washed over my inflamed tissues. That was heaven. I leaned forward just in case my nose wanted to start bleeding again. Having that shit slide down my throat was disgusting and not something else I wanted to deal with right now.

"Did you put anything on it?" he asked softly. "Yeah... just a hot pack," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. It was all I could afford at the time. Not that it helped much. Brent exhaled, shaking his head. "Heat’s not the best for bruises. Ice works better." He looked at me over again, relief flickering in his expression. "It looks better than before, though." I gave him a small, grateful nod, pressing the ice pack a little more firmly against my skin.

"We need to make sure this doesn't swell. Going to put some ointment on it and then ice. That sound okay?" I nodded, still sniffling. She pulled out a tube of ointment and squeezed some onto her fingers, then applied it gently to the red area. Her touch was careful. She'd done this before. Patched me up after falls and scrapes and all the various injuries that came with being a kid. "This might feel cold," she warned, then pressed an ice pack wrapped in a thin towel against my hip. I winced but the cold felt good after a second. It was numbing.

The icy steam found my thigh naked as soon as it lifted the package, the coldness as painful as a slap, and a frustrated hiss left my lips. Finally, the package escaped from my fingers and plunged into the ground into a cascade of frozen cubes slipping all the way. I closed my eyes and counted mentally to relieve my anger and suffocate the scream that threatened to submerge from my throat. That wasn't my lucky day. I rubbed one of my hands on my face to ward off my hair from the effort and I got goosebumps with the frigidity in my joints. All the time, Kendall remained lying on the freezer, clearly finding hilarious my attempts to be useful. When I stumbled upon a strong blow of the knee aga

He hands me the pill and I turn my head when I swallow so he won't see the effort it takes me to get the horse pill down. Ryland sits on the couch and moves my foot and pillow to rest on top of his legs. He places a large professional-looking ice pack over my ankle and foot. This isn't a cheap bag of ice wrapped in a white towel, the frozen bright green square is shaped in a half circle, perfect for wrapping around a leg or foot. "Where'd you get that from?" I point toward the ice as he repositions it to cover more of my foot, the cold biting into my skin as it seeps past the wrap.

He kneels in front of me, his thumb brushing along the tender skin. “See? It’s already fading,” I whisper, only to wince when he applies a small amount of pressure to the spot right above my jaw. He pulls back slightly. “Stay put. I’ll grab ice.” By the time he returns with a plastic bag wrapped in a towel, I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring at my hands. “Hold still,” he murmurs, pressing the cool pack gently to my cheek. I flinch at the touch at first but slowly relax as the cold seeps in, numbing the tender skin. Dominic sits beside me, his broad frame a solid presence that I can’t help but lean into. He doesn’t speak for a while and neither do I.

Just watching me with that unbearable softness he’d stood up with earlier. It made my throat tighten instantly. I let go of his hand and picked up my bag. Only then did his gaze shift to his hand, like he was just realizing I’d done something. “You shouldn’t use it too much,” I said quietly, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “And when you get home, use an ice pack.” He didn’t respond, just pushed to a sitting position as I stood. “Keep it on all night if possible,” I added. “Or you won’t be able to use it properly tomorrow.”