Page 59 of Wanted

“We need an exam.”

Jake crinkles his nose. “Examining burning genitals isn’t something I do in my home. You’ll have to see me at the clinic.”

Frankie hiccups a laugh of surprise, her hand tightening on mine.

“Not that kind of exam, asshole. She needs her head looked at.” I drag her back to my front, crossing my arm over her chest and holding her tight against me.

“Have you been to the hospital?” Jake’s all business as he repositions himself in front of us.

“She has.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“She’s still confused.”

“Maybe you should let her answer my questions,” Jake says over Frankie’s head. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m Jake Parnell. Do you want to fill me in so this ogre doesn’t have an aneurysm?”

Frankie’s shoulders shake against my arm.

“He’s overreacting. I had a head injury two weeks ago after a fall. The doctor at the hospital said my scans were all clear and that I just had a concussion.”

“I see. Do you mind if I poke around?”

“Go ahead.”

“You mind letting her go?” Jake raises an eyebrow at me until I release Frankie from my hold.

Jake prods around the sides and back of her skull with his fingertips. “Jude says you’ve been confused?”

“I can’t remember what happened right before the accident. And then tonight, I recalled something incorrectly. Just for a moment. I remembered right after, but it was like for a second, the information wasn’t as clear.”

“Are you still having any symptoms of the concussion?”

“No.”

“Did you bring this up when you had the scans?”

“I did. The doctor said that it happens and the memory loss can be temporary or permanent.”

Jake runs his palms over his thighs. “He’s right, unfortunately. If your scans were clear and you’re feeling better otherwise, I think post-traumatic amnesia is likely. And not uncommon.”

Frankie shrugs. “That’s what I was told.”

“Then why attempt to bust my door down?” Jake raises an eyebrow with a slight grin.

Frankie leans in. “He was worried,” she stage-whispers.

I try to hide an exasperated huff with a cough.

“If he’s still worried, I recommend following up in the clinic with myself or another doctor. Since this isn’t an official diagnosis or anything.” Jake winks.

Frankie looks around the room as if she’s just realizing we’re standing in a stranger’s house. “This is a little odd to have a medical consult in someone’s living room.”

“We go way back,” I supply.

“And since someone hardly likes to leave his sanctuary, I make house calls. Otherwise, he’d have lost a limb to gangrene by now.”

A slow count to five is all it takes to imagine the anxiety in my body leaching from my feet into the floor.

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