Page 141 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“You ready to get outta here?”

“Please,” Myla said.

She walked steadily down the porch steps and straight to my bike.

“You sure?” I asked, running my thumb over the apple of her cheek. “I can drive your car. Pick up my bike in the morning.”

“I want to feel the wind,” she replied simply.

“All right.”

I let her pull my helmet on, wincing every time she did.

We fired up our bikes and got the hell out of there.

I realized as we rode back to Myla’s that the property had lost all its appeal. I’d never pull up the driveway again without thinking of the panicked ride out there. I’d never see the porch steps without seeing Myla there, staring blankly ahead, covered in blood. I’d never see the kitchen table without remembering how carefully I’d cut Myla’s shirt and bra off because she was so stiff that I knew I’d never be able to get it off over her head.

When we pulled up outside of Myla’s house, her mother was sitting on the front porch. She met us in the driveway.

“Okay?” she asked, running her hands over Myla’s shoulders and arms, their faces close.

“I’m okay,” Myla replied, her voice hitching.

“Get her inside,” Tommy ordered.

It was a testament to how scared Heather was by the way she instantly obeyed. I didn’t think I’d ever seen it happen before.

“Molly’s here?” Tommy asked as we walked toward the house.

“Yeah,” Heather replied. “Will, too.”

I was confused until we walked inside and I saw the open medical bag on the coffee table. I’d forgotten that Will’s wife, Molly, was a nurse.

Lou and Frankie watched from a distance as Molly immediately stepped in, grabbing the first aid bag as she led Heather and Myla down the hallway.

“What happened?” Frankie asked, her normally brash voice lowered to almost a whisper. “Nobody will tell us anything.”

“Sit down, girls,” Tommy said gently. He looked at me and jerked his head toward Myla’s bedroom.

When I stepped into Myla’s room, she was sitting on the bed in nothing but a bra and tank top, and she didn’t try to hide the relief in her eyes when they met mine. Heather sat next to her, holding her hand.

“It was smart to put ice on your throat,” Molly said softly when Myla looked back at her. She brushed a bit of Myla’s hair away from her face. “It kept the swelling down.”

“She need to go to the hospital?” I asked, closing the door behind me.

“They already took photos?” Molly asked.

“Yeah.”

I ground my teeth together, remembering the woman with the camera.

“Then, no, you don’t need to go in,” Molly replied, smiling gently at Myla. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“You want to lay down?” Heather asked with a grimace. “It’s been a hell of a night.”

“No, not yet,” Myla replied. She climbed carefully off the bed and grabbed her robe from where she’d thrown it on the dresser that morning.

“I think it’s time you give that back,” Heather said dryly, looking pointedly at me.

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