Page 8 of Stables

Damn it all to hell. I want to find the man responsible and beat him twice as badly.

“Who did this to you?” My voice has more gravel than I intend. Clearing my throat, I fold myself onto the low rolling stool next to her.

I know I’m a big guy, I don’t want to scare her. She’s had enough of that for one day.

“I’m sorry. I’m Dr. McCullough. I’m here to help you—” I check for her name. “—Charlotte. Can we go over your injuries?” Glancing down at my tablet, I start noting the visible lacerations.

Sometimes it’s easier for them to talk when I’m not looking at them.

But I find myself wanting to see that sapphire iris fix on me when she speaks.

“The worst part is my chest.” Her fingers flutter, drawing my gaze to her ribs.

A quick check of her monitor shows her regular heartbeat.

“I need to listen to your lungs.” I throw up a thumb to point over my shoulder. “Maggie is right on the other side of the curtain. Do you want me to bring her in?” I get that it can make women uncomfortable with a man in the room so soon after, well, going through hell.

To my surprise, she shakes her head. “I’m okay, doc.”

“This might be cold.” I give her a slight warning before pressing the stethoscope against her. “Take a deep breath.” I take my own suggestion. Getting worked up won’t do anything.

When she sits up for me to listen to her back, discoloration marks her spine as well.

I bet she’s barely five feet tall. Whoever tossed her around is a monster.

“Sounds good. Lean back. I want you to point to where you have the sharpest pain.” I’m back to towering over her.

She squeezes her eyes shut. I hope it’s because of the bright lights and not me.

“Here,” she whimpers when she touches her abdomen. “And my leg, and my cheek.”

“On a scale of one to ten, can you rate your pain level for me?” My finger poises over the empty box on the tablet.

The pink triangle of her tongue darts out and touches the split in her lip. “Um. Probably a six or seven.”

I’m skeptical it’s that low, but mark it down.

Fuck. There’s a part of me that wants to gather her up like a puppy and hold her until the ache goes away.

I try to be gentle. Yet she still winces when I touch her. Her knee is nearly purple, matching her swollen eye.

“I’m ordering some x-rays. I don’t think your lip will need any stitches, but it will be sore for a few days. Did he, um, hurt you anywhere else?” I always dread that question.

Tears trickle down her temple, but she shakes her head. “He tried. Libby saved me.”

“I’ll be sure to thank her. You’re both very brave.” As severe as her injuries look, they could have been much worse. “Is there a chance you could be pregnant?”

Her blue eye opens and locks on me. “No chance.” She drops her head to the mat and drapes her forearm over her forehead.

I pull the curtain closed behind me and let out a long breath through the whiskers of my mustache as I approach the main desk.

Maggie looks up from the computer and gestures at the screen. “She’s a tough cookie. Says here this is her third visit because of him.”

My knuckles pop when I tighten my fist against my thigh.

She has a ribbon of steel beneath the porcelain.

“Someone needs to show him how to keep his hands to himself,” I mutter.

---