Page 114 of Tulips and Lost Time

“No broken bones that I can find. Ya know, like with my hands, and not an x-ray which we totally have access to down at the hospital.” Mitch firms his lips and runs his fingertips along my arm. My head thuds with an ache so fucking deep, I’m not sure if there’s a drum line somewhere in the back, or if a train is using my skull for a set of tracks.

He sits on the edge of Kari’s bed—first and last time—and examines my tender body. “I can’t find anything while probing your bones, Lenaghan. But you could have a million hairline fractures, and we won’t know until you get the damn scan.”

“Not getting a scan.” My words are slurred. Heavy. And my eyes don’t open all the way. But I spy a quietly crying Kari in my peripherals. Her eyes are swollen too. Red and puffy, albeit for a different reason. “Hey, Bear.” Weak, I reach across and tap her hip to draw her attention. “You okay over there, beautiful?”

“He’s going to prison,” she chokes out, twisting to look me up and down. “And you’re going to the hospital.”

I shake my head, slowing the movement when it feels like my brain rattles inside my skull. “Neither of those things are happening.”

“They should be,” Mitchell snarls. “You need to have your head scanned, at the very least. And he needs a little time in a cage to cool off. Ten to twenty-five oughta do it.”

“Oh god.” Kari sobs into her hands, her back bouncing from the tears wracking her frame. “He was so mad. So mad!”

“We knew he would be. Hey?” I pinch the fabric of her shirt between my stiff, aching fingers, and tug it to get her attention. “Bear? Look at me.”

“I can’t. I’m so ashamed.”

A long, silent growl reverberates in the back of my throat. Then I bark out a non-playful, “Look at me!”

Dragging her face from her hands, she glances across and blinks fresh tears onto her cheeks.

“It’s gonna be okay. I’ve known Marcus most of my life, Bear. He flashes hot, then he cools down. It’s gonna be fine.”

“He deserves to go to jail for what he did,” Mitchell growls. “I get the big brother thing, Luc. I really do. But this is next-fucking-level unhinged.”

“He’s not going to jail on my account.” Swallowing the acid creeping along my throat, I set my least-painful arm on the bed and use it to hitch myself up to sitting. A long moan rolls through my throbbing chest and erupts with a side of a whimper, and when I try to force my eyes open, the whole world swims.

It’s momentary and dizzying.

But then things slow. The nausea bubbling in my belly settles. The universe calms the fuck down. Then my lips curl into a small, teeny tiny so the splits don’t split more, smile that still sends shards of glass through my veins. “See?” I swallow the lump in my throat and ignore the pain radiating along my forearm. “Everything is okay.”

“Luca!”

“I’m not going to the hospital. I’m not making a statement with the cops. And I’m not?—”

“The cops already know!” Mitchell sneers. “The chief of fucking police is the same dude you eat Sunday dinner with, stupid. He knows!”

“And he won’t press charges if I don’t ask for them. He knows Marcus, too.” I bring my hand up and gently probe my swollen jaw. “That’s his foster brother, Mitch. He knows Marcus just as well as I do.”

“Which means he knows he has a fuckin’ danger on his streets. What happens next time someone pisses Marcus off, and a world champ fighter isn’t there to pull him away?”

“Dude…”

“He would have killed you,” he grits. “He wasn’t thinking with his brain in that moment, Luc. He was just… doing. He couldn’t control it. So what happens next time his temper is triggered, and he can’t switch it off?? Do you wanna explain to that person’s family you could have prevented someone’s death, but you didn’t, because you wanna protect your friend?”

“The only person on this planet at risk of a beat down from him is me.” I run the pads of my fingers over my cheekbone, examining my damn self, since Mitch is more concerned with arguing than he is with his off-the-books patient. “His only trigger is Kari. He’s not a risk to anyone else, so calm the fuck down and stop talking.” I massage my temple. “You’re hurting my head.”

“You probably have a concussion, stupid. You’ll go to sleep in a few hours and never wake up again.” He claps my shoulder and grumbles when a long hiss ricochets along my throat. “Once you die, the cops will pursue charges. And I guess I’ll have to get used to having a new partner on the bus with me. Which fuckin’ sucks, by the way. It took me easily ten years to get used to the way you hum along to the radio.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.” I slump, too tired to sit up straight, but I reach across and grab Kari’s shirt. “You need to chill out, Bear. It’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s not gonna be okay!” Her eyes spill over, drenching her cheeks and dribbling off the ledge of her jaw. “He hates us, Luc. He’s pissed at me for lying. And he’s gonna try to hurt you again. Every single time you’re in the same room, he’s gonna hurt you, because we snuck around and broke his heart.”

“I have strong bones.” I hook my hand in the back of her hair, twisting until her tears stop and her eyes widen, then I pull her back and lie down so we land together, her head resting on my tender shoulder. Instantly, like she knows how she fits, her thigh comes up to rest on mine and her arm slings across to cover my throbbing ribs. “Give me today to rest. Give him today to cool down. He can go back to Meg, and she’ll talk him off the ledge, then tomorrow, we’ll figure it out.”

“Next week,” Mitchell snarls. “Tomorrow, you’re gonna hurt even more than you’re hurting today. Next week, you’ll probably stop pissing blood.”

“Is that your professional medical opinion?” I close my eyes—I would roll them if I had the energy—and slide my fingertips over the ball of Kari’s shoulder. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

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