Page 27 of Whispers of My Skin

“Your wound isn’t that deep, so it doesn’t require stitches, and should heal up nicely on its own,” the doctor pronounces once he’s prodded and poked at my sore neck. “I’ll prescribe you some more of the antiseptic gel I’m applying. Keep the area clean and dry, change the dressing daily, and reapply the gel liberally to aid healing and alleviate any scarring.”

“Shouldn’t my wife be taken to hospital for a complete physical, rather than make do with just a hasty patch up job in the yard of the house?” Joel intervenes. I don’t think he’s very impressed by the rather good-looking young doctor’s swift appraisal of my condition. “Especially if there’s a risk of scarring or other long-term effects, I want her taken to hospital for a thorough examination by the top specialist.”

He’s overreacting about a nasty scratch, but I guess it’s sweet of him to be so concerned. However, the last thing I need is Joel getting detailed reports about my condition when I know I’m lucky to have kept him in the dark so far.

“Joel, I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital, and I don’t need to see another doctor,” I try my best to convince him. “Right now, all I want is to take a nice warm bath and rest for a while, then I’ll be right as rain.” After the day I’ve had, I’m both mentally and physically exhausted. I don’t want to be taken anywhere, and I really don’t want to see anyone else.

“You can do that later, once you’ve been properly checked out at the hospital,” Joel stubbornly insists.

The doctor intervenes. “Mr. Sadger, I understand that you’re concerned about your wife, but I assure you that as long as she rests up for a few days, and if required, takes the painkillers I’ll prescribe, then she should be fine. If that turns out not to be the case, then, by all means, bring her along to the hospital.”

“But why take the chance? Why not take her now to be on the safe side?” Joel argues.

This is getting ridiculous.

“I feel fine, Joel, so stop making such a fuss over nothing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading back to the house.” I grit my teeth to ignore the lightheadedness that washes over me when I stand, paying no heed to Joel’s protests. Silly man, does he not see that he’s making this harder for me rather than easier?

“Mrs. Sadger, I have all the information I need,” the police officer comes over to inform me. “Your husband has provided us with all the relevant details, so we’ll be in touch should we require anything else. Hopefully, it won’t prove necessary for you to come down to the station at this time.”

Walter and his sidekicks are nowhere to be seen, presumably having been taken into custody, but police officers are still milling around, taking pictures, measurements and so forth.

“That’s great, thanks,” I murmur. All I want is to escape to my room, to be left in peace. I close my eyes against the wave of faintness washing over me.

“I’ve got you.” Joel sweeps me up in his strong arms, obviously intent on carrying me back to the house.

“Joel, this really isn’t necessary. Put me down.” My voice is feeble from sheer exhaustion.

“Tara, you’re on the verge of collapsing, which is hardly surprising considering what you’ve been through, and I don’t want you falling and hurting yourself again.” He tightens his grip on me.

“I’ll scream if you don’t put me down right this minute,” I threaten.

Police are still swarming around the place, so that’d get their attention.

“Scream if you must,” Joel calmly replies. “I’ll just tell everyone you’re going into delayed shock, and then we’ll end up at the hospital. Which is my preferred option anyway, so I win.”

“What is it with you and always having to win?” I sigh, realizing it’s futile to continue arguing with this stubborn man.

He grins, as he hefts me more securely into his arms and starts walking back to the house.

“Basic human nature, Tara. No one wants to lose.”

“Okay, Joel, so how about you tell me exactly what it is that you don’t want to lose? The ranch? Why don’t you drop your fake caring act, and fill me in on your real intentions?” I may be feeling physically weak, but I’m still able to attack him verbally, to let him know I’m not the naïve and gullible young girl he once knew.

His step falters a little at my accusatory words.

But before he can respond, Cassandra interrupts from behind. Why the fuck is she following us up to the house when I couldn’t have made myself any clearer that I wanted her gone?

“Do you need me for anything else, Joel? I’m more than happy to help out, since poor little Tara’s obviously incapacitated after her silly run in. You know, I can’t help wondering—what was she thinking going to the men’s living quarters on her own anyway?”

I’m fuming at her inference that the attack was somehow my fault, and also that she’s talking to Joel as if I wasn’t here. ‘Poor little Tara?’ I’m going to give that bitch such a slap down to prove I’m not too ‘incapacitated’ to wipe that smug look off her face. I growl and squirm as I try my hardest to escape from Joel’s arms, but he just tightens his grip and presses my head into his chest to muffle my protests and prevent me starting the cat fight I’m more than willing to instigate with her.

He just calls over his shoulder,

“No, we’re all good here, Cassie. Go home. We’ll be fine, I’ll take care of everything.”

I somehow manage to hold my tongue until we’re in the house, but then I let rip.

“Thank you so much for that demonstration of your Alpha-maleness, but you can put me down now. I don’t need you. I don’t need your help. I can look after myself. I’ve no intention of popping my clogs just yet (God willing), because making you a widower would make things far too convenient for you. But what we will be doing is getting a divorce,” I declare as he finally puts me down. I fold my arms over my chest and glare up at him. Damn him for being so much taller than me as it means he can effortlessly dominate me just by standing there and making me crick my neck up to him.

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