Page 17 of My Damaged Protector

In fact, I say welcome to the club. It's getting lonely, anyway. Maybe I could use a partner.

Damn.

Even in my thoughts, I sound so crazy I'm having a hard time believing it.

But sadly, this is my new reality: jumping into burning buildings without taking proper precautions, jumping in front of a truck to save a woman I've always wanted but couldn't have, and now getting beaten by burglars over electronics worth a few hundred dollars.

When does it end?

Hell, if I know.

Soon, I am in the ambulance. The receptionist couldn't follow me because she's on duty. I'm grateful for the reprieve, and then the bus starts to move.

We get to the hospital in record time. The EMT staff tends to me, a few of them talking about how crazy they think I am for getting beaten up over nothing, right in my presence.

And I thought the night couldn't get any worse.

Another nurse joins the group, admonishes the staff for gossiping, and then asks what I am in for.

I tune it all out as they start to tell her. I can feel her gaze on me, though, but I try to ignore it until I realize that she looks familiar. I can't remember from where.

After getting checked out, they tell me I have no major injuries except the swelling on my face that now makes me look like a nincompoop, no doubt.

They give me some prescriptions, say it'll be charged to the motel, and then tell me I can go home.

When I'm finally left alone in the room, I allow a loud groan to leave my mouth, properly letting myself feel stupid for getting pummeled for no reason.

I gather my strength and then jump off the bed. Entering the bathroom, I glance at myself in the mirror.

Yup, I look stupid.

Shaking my head, I walk back into the ward and exit it. As I step out, my movement falters on instinct when I see Sarah walking toward me.

The thought of running back into the ward occurs to me, but she's already seen me, her eyes zeroed on me with a pissed look on her face.

What is she doing here?

6

SARAH

I'm notan angry person by nature. As a matter of fact, on an average day, you'll find me doing my best trying to make sure the people around me are okay.

My mom used to call me a people pleaser. Maybe I am. But that's not my attitude right now.

No, it's whoever did this to Ian's handsome face that I have a bone to pick with. Or, like I've been told, the two people.

My aunt Sheila had called me a while ago telling me to come to the hospital. Of course, I asked her why. I mean, I had no idea that anyone I knew had been hospitalized. And the thought of my daughter being a patient is something I refused to believe. My aunt immediately sensed my confusion, though, and clarified, telling me it was Ian.

It's one thing to be told he's in the hospital. It's another thing entirely to find out he's there for a very avoidable reason.

First, I was pissed at him. I came here ready to talk some sense into his head, of course, with some skepticism of whether he'd want to see me.

He did leave earlier without any explanation. What if he wouldn't appreciate me coming?

I tried talking myself out of coming, but I just couldn't find it in me to leave him alone, especially when I'm still not sure why he's in town yet or if he's with any company. What if he has no one to drive him back to the motel?

So here I am, staring at his very swollen face, and the anger that was in me toward him has switched gears.

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