Chapter 32: Chapter 31

I winced as the EMT swiped something that felt very much like an alcohol pad over the gash on my forehead. Biscuit growled from his place on the gurney. He’d refused to leave my side since they’d pulled us from the now-trashed SUV.

“Sorry,” the young EMT said, her face sympathetic. “Gotta make sure it’s clean.”

“It’s okay, Susie,” I assured her. The other EMT, Shawn, hadn’t been able to get close, thanks to Biscuit’s defensiveness.

“You need to go to the hospital,” Trace gritted out.

Biscuit let out another low growl at my brother’s tone.

I shook my head quickly. Hospitals were not my thing. Not since I’d spent so much time in one all those years ago. “No.”

That muscle along Trace’s jaw fluttered wildly. “You have a concussion.”

“A small one,” I argued. “And Susie can put some of that fancy glue on my forehead to get me all stitched up. Right, Susie?”

She looked back and forth between Trace and me as if scared to speak.

“She’s not supposed to,” Shawn muttered. He was older, in his late forties, with some salt and pepper in his hair and beard.

Susie, on the other hand, was younger than me and in PA school. Which meant she knew all about this sort of stuff. I would totally be her practice dummy if it got me out of going to the hospital.

A blacked-out truck skidded to a stop outside the fray. Its sleek lines and faint design detailed in black on black were familiar.

Fallon jumped out of the passenger seat, running toward me as Kye followed quickly behind. “Are you okay? What happened? Someone forced you off the road? What the heck, Rho?”

Kye’s hands dropped to her shoulders, squeezing gently. “Breathe, Fal.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply, then opened them again. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, instantly regretting the action as it pulled on my wound and made my head ache. “I’m fine, promise.”

Fallon scowled at me. “You’re bleeding from the head. That’s not fine. And let me guess, she’s refusing to go to the hospital?”

Trace jerked his head in assent. “Stubborn as hell.”

Fallon huffed out a breath. “I knew you would, so I picked up Dr. Avery on the way.”

I glowered at her. “You kidnapped a doctor?”

Kye’s lips twitched, but I still saw a hint of concern and maybe even fear swirling in his eyes. “She’s slightly terrifying when riled.”

“I’ll agree with that,” Dr. Avery, a man in his early sixties, said. He’d been my doctor since we moved here when I was a kid, just like he was for most of the rest of town. He moved purposefully through the crowd of emergency services. “Rhodes, I don’t like meeting like this.”

My mouth curved. “You and me both.”

Biscuit let out a low growl as Dr. Avery got closer.

The doctor eyed my protector. “We might need to have him moved first.”

“Good luck,” Trace muttered. “He’s like her bodyguard now.”

“Think he’ll come with me?” Fallon asked.

“We can try,” I said, scratching behind Biscuit’s ears. “You gotta go with Fallon for a minute, okay? I’ll be right here.” God, I was glad he was all right. It could’ve been so much worse, but we both seemed to have escaped without any major injuries.

Fallon took Biscuit’s leash and lifted him to the ground with a grunt. “I gotcha. Gonna give you all the cuddles while your mom’s getting fixed up.”

The moment Biscuit was out of his path, Dr. Avery got to work. He did the little penlight test and examined my wound. “This would be a lot easier at my office,” he mumbled.

“Better to just get it done,” I said quietly. Even being in his office was hard for me. Checkups were one thing, but something like this? Just seeing some of the instruments he pulled out of his travel bag had my breaths coming faster.

Dr. Avery frowned down at me. “I can close this with medical glue, but you’ll need to keep it dry for at least four days.”

“I can do that.”

Dr. Avery glanced at Susie. “Would you like to assist?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

They worked in tandem as I tried to let myself float away and not feel the pain of Susie holding my wound together or the glue being placed across my flesh. I hummed to myself, keeping my eyes closed.

The screech of tires had my eyes flying open. I quickly spotted Shep’s truck, but it wasn’t him my gaze landed on. It was Anson. He stalked across the pavement, his eyes wild. His dark gray T-shirt was pulled taut across his chest as it heaved with his ragged breaths. Everything about him was swirling darkness, as if shadows clung to him somehow.

The sea of emergency services personnel parted for him as if sensing the darkness. He prowled toward me, something in his movements more animal than human. His blue-gray gaze swept over me, assessing anything that was out of place in a matter of moments.

He slowed just as he approached the gurney, and I opened my mouth to tell him I was okay, but I didn’t get a chance. He pulled me into his arms, the move heartbreakingly gentle and forceful all at once.

I felt each heave of Anson’s chest against mine. Each inhale and exhale felt jagged as if they caught on tattered pieces of his heart. “Reckless,” he choked out.

My arms went around him, and I held on tight. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not,” he growled. “There’s a goddamn gash on your forehead, and someone drove you off the fucking road.” Anson’s arms shook around me, vibrating with fury, and maybe even fear.

I gripped him tighter, trying to assure him with my body as much as my mind that I was okay. “The doctor already fixed my head. I’m okay, Biscuit’s okay. I just need to go home and have a long soak in a bath.”

Anson kept holding on. “Someone tried to hurt you.”

The words were barely audible, more sound than syllables. Tortured and coated in barbed wire.

The reminder had my body trembling. It hadn’t been an accident. Whoever it was had wanted to harm me. I wished I could believe that it was a random tourist experiencing a blast of road rage, but I knew that wasn’t true.

Someone had tried to burn my house down a couple of nights ago, leaving behind what might as well have been a death threat. And I hadn’t wanted to deal with the reality of that. But now, I had no choice.

Someone out there hated me. Hated me so badly they wanted to hurt me in the worst ways possible.

Anson pressed his face to my neck. “Nothing can happen to you.”

I wanted to reassure him that nothing would, but I wasn’t so sure I could.

“What the hell is going on with you two?” Trace’s deep voice broke into the bubble surrounding Anson and me.

As I tried to pull back, I remembered that we had an audience, and every pair of eyes was now glued to us.

Oh, shit.