Page 56 of Writing On The Wall

He clears his throat as he releases me and shifts into his seat, then he steers the truck back onto the road.

The strained silence continues. I guess we’re not going to talk about what just happened, then.

While the feeling of Ethan’s big hands cupping my jaw and his lips caressing mine were all exceptionally nice, twisting into him just now also managed to draw my attention to a stinging in my side, one that begins to throb more painfully as his truck rumbles along.

My brows pull together, and I stifle a wince when a sharp stabbing hits me below my ribs. The spot might have only been a dull ache when I first fell, but now it’s throwing a tantrum. Meanwhile, Ethan is pouting on the other side of the cab like someone’s just told him tool belts are for sissies, so I withhold drawing attention to my pain.

I don’t get it. One minute, the man is pulling me in and kissing me senselessly, and the next, he’s back to glowering at me in silence. Then again, he did apologize, so maybe he already regrets that kiss?

“So, um…How was your date?” I squeak out when his truck hits a pothole, and I bounce around painfully in my seat.

“Didn’t go on the date, Ivy.”

I’d assumed that much when he showed up at my house so soon after leaving. But I needed to hear him say it. He continues to stew, glaring at the road like it’s personally offended him. I turn slightly to my right, secretly lifting the hem of my oversized shirt to check the damage.

Oh. Well, crap.

“You still okay with pizza?”

“Uh…yeah. Pizza’s fine. But could we stop somewhere first?”

More scowling.

“Yeah. Where do you need to go?”

“Um, just something I gotta do real quick. Take a right over here.”

I inhale slowly, taking in deep, measured breaths in between giving Ethan directions. He looks puzzled when we reach our destination. “Why are we outside the hospital?”

“Okay, I’ll tell you. But first, I really hope you have a good car detailing place. And also don’t be mad?—”

“Ivy—”

“Just, pull up outside the emergency entrance, please.”

He does as I ask, but his eyes grow more frantic. “Ivy? What the hell is going on?”

“You’re gonna have to help me out. It seems I’ve gotten some blood on your seat.”

I’ve never seen a man move so fast. His seatbelt is barely unclipped and he’s already at my door, hands hovering with uncertainty. “You’re bleeding! Okay. Crap, Ivy, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Don’t fuss at me, okay? That’s why I didn’t say anything at first. Also, I just noticed.”

“How did you miss this?” he shouts incredulously.

I furrow my brow. “You’re the one who distracted me.”

Ethan clenches his jaw, reaching up and carefully cradling my hips. I slide out of the truck and get to my feet with his help, and he curses under his breath while he searches for a shirt from behind the seat. He balls it up and gently presses it over the spot I’ve been covering with my hand, and we shuffle into the ER together. Convincing him to park his truck and leave me in the waiting area proves harder than getting Gail to bake something without rum. He only relents when a burly nurse hurries out with a wheelchair, both of them insisting I sit.

I’m wheeled to the check-in desk after that, where I awkwardly recount the events that led me here. I wish it were a thrilling tale, like slipping on an old dock while rescuing someone from a gator attack. But eventually I’m forced to admit that I was startled and toppled onto a box of pizza, a six pack of sodas, and an ugly light fixture. The attendant glares at me with the same skeptical look you give to someone who says they’re thinking about getting a perm.

Ethan rushes back in, alarming the other patients he passes. A nurse joins us, giving Ethan a once over before ushering us both behind a screen. I’ve skipped the line, and as I open my mouth to protest and volunteer to wait my turn, Ethan’s lips form a thin line. Before I can speak, he gives me a stern, “Don’t even think about it.” Apparently, having blood seeping from one’s side is a big deal. I only got the one look at it, but it’s not like I’m going to die from blood loss. I’m guessing the cut is a thumb and a half wide, tops.

Ethan broods silently, standing with his muscular arms folded while the nurse takes my vitals. He looks away politely when she helps me remove my bloody shirt to swap it for a scrub top. Then we’re escorted to a room and the nurse leaves, telling us a doctor will be in soon.

“So, what’s your more fun twin doing while you sulk it up with me?” I ask, pursing my lips to the side.

Ethan lifts his hands in frustration. “Dang it, Ivy. You put yourself in danger.Again.And I’m mad ‘cause I’m the reason you’re here.”

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