Page 107 of Wife Number One

The relaxed expression fell from her face, and she suddenly shook her head, pushing at the nurse.

Nurse Freya fought to keep the blood pressure cuff on her patient. “No, no, sweetie. Just gotta keep this on a few more moments. I know it’s not very comfortable…”

Hayley Jade yanked at the arm cuff, her eyes wide, her gaze firmly stuck on me.

The nurse glanced over at me, taking in my clammy skin and the way I was breathing. “Mom, how about you go get a cup of water? There’s a waiting area just around the corner there that has a dispenser.”

I nodded and backed away.

I was clearly not helping here. I was clearly making her worse.

“Kara,” Hawk warned, one hand already wrapped around Hayley Jade’s trying to reassure her, while they both stared at me.

“Stay with her,” I told him. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in just a minute after I get some water.”

I could tell he didn’t like it.

His expression said he hated the idea of me walking around the hospital by myself, where he couldn’t see me.

Couldn’t protect me if Josiah or one of his guys had followed us here from the clubhouse.

But I was hurting Hayley Jade.

And I was going to keep hurting her until I faced everything I’d done.

That meant reliving it all. Not just the escape. But every day of the past five years. The thought alone slammed closed doors in my brain, stopping the flow of images. “Stay with her,” I said again, imploring him to listen to me.

I needed to know she was safe.

He reluctantly gave a short nod.

As if I hadn’t been able to move my feet until he let me, they suddenly unlocked. I hurried from the room in search of somewhere I could repair the mental walls that kept me from breaking down in front of a hospital full of people, and the one little girl who needed me to be stronger than I was.

31

GRAYSON

The green curtain that partitioned off various sections of the hospital’s free clinic slid aside, and Harriet’s stressed-out face popped through. “How many more do you want to take? It’s already after five.”

I peered past the “Volunteers Wanted. No Medical Training Required,” sign that we always had up because we were perpetually understaffed, and into the crowded waiting room. “As many as are out there. Nobody gets turned away.”

She shook her head. “You’re always the last one here. Dr. Tahpley bailed an hour ago, and Zigley didn’t even show for her shift.”

I finished up the last of my notes from the patient before and handed the file over to Harriet. She groaned good-naturedly at the essay I’d written on the top page that someone—probably her—would have to transcribe into the system later.

“I’m not the last one. You’re here too.”

“I’m as big a dope as you are.”

I slung my arm around her shoulder and squeezed it. “But isn’t this so much more rewarding than anything else we get to do here?”

She grumbled about actually getting paid being somewhat rewarding but I knew she didn’t mean it.

I’d meant every word. The hours I volunteered at the clinic were one of the best parts of my week, and I never left until the last patient had been seen, even if that meant I was here hours after closing time.

“Timothy Jones,” Harriet called. “You’re up next.”

Timothy stood from a seat to my left, and I moved to greet him.

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