Page 59 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

“What?” She stared at it. “I can walk.”

He straightened, then brushed the halves of his lab coat back and rested his fingertips on his hips. “You, Haley Michaels the werewolf, can. But everyone in this hospital thinks you’re Haley Michaels the human.” He leveled a no-nonsense look at her. “We have to make sure it stays that way.”

A sigh built in her chest.

“Believe me,” he said, “I’m already going to raise eyebrows by taking you home so soon.”

She pushed the sigh back. “Could you get in trouble for this?”

He shrugged. “It’s a risk I have to take. The longer you’re here, the greater the chance of exposure for both of us.”

Fifteen minutes. That wasn’t much time. All her life, she’d been cautioned about humans. Werewolves might be faster and stronger, but humans had numbers. They always had. And through the centuries they’d proved they were willing to hunt and kill anything they deemed other.

Bard saved her life. She couldn’t put his in jeopardy over something as silly as a wheelchair ride.

She walked to the chair and sat.

“Thank you,” he murmured above her.

She tensed, trying to detect sarcasm in his voice. But there wasn’t any. At least she didn’t think so. Considering how quickly he shifted moods, it was almost impossible to tell.

Did he do it on purpose to keep her off balance?

Her thoughts fled as he backed the chair up, then spun it in a slow arc and wheeled her past the curtain and into a darkened entryway with a tiny bathroom to the left and a wide door straight ahead. He stopped the chair and skirted around her, limping to the door and propping it open.

“Your leg,” she said, half rising from the chair. “You shouldn’t be pushing me.”

He turned and waved her back down. “I’ll manage.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” he said, his voice clipped. He circled the chair once more and started pushing, effectively ending her protests. They went through the door and into a bright hallway lined with doors identical to the one they’d just passed through. The floors and ceiling were an impersonal, sterile white, and plastic file holders hung outside each room, some with manila folders tucked inside.

Haley lowered her voice. “It’s quiet for an emergency room.”

Bard replied in the same low tone. “Not for long. The nurses’ station is just ahead.”

He wheeled her around a corner, revealing a tall counter bustling with activity. Various beeping sounds filled the air, along with the clack of computer keys and the buzz of several different voices.

Bard leaned down, putting his mouth at her ear. “Just so you know, I told the staff you’re my niece.”

Shock bolted through her. His niece? She turned her head to ask why the hell he’d done that, but he withdrew before she could say anything. As they approached the station, he pushed her faster, making a breeze tickle her hair.

They were almost past the tall white counter when a woman called, “Doctor Bennett?”

Bard froze.

The nurse Anna bustled around the counter, her gaze going to Haley before jumping higher as she addressed Bard. “You’re moving her?”

“Discharging her.”

“But she—”

“Hates hospitals.” Bard’s hand landed on Haley’s shoulder. “Remember that time you got your tonsils out?”

Haley swallowed. Humans can’t smell lies. “Um, yeah. I . . . hated it.”

Bard’s low chuckle seemed to vibrate her chest. “She threw such a fit, you could hear her in the hospital lobby.” He squeezed her shoulder.

---