Page 23 of Burned & Bound

He wanted to help… he wanted to help.

I didn’t deserve the help.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t mean to… I’m sorry,” I rambled.

“You don’t need to apologize, West,” Mickey cut me off. “Just let me see your hand. Let me help you. Please. I ain’t no doctor, but it’s better than haulin’ you off to the hospital.”

“No!” I exclaimed. Panic crashed with terror in my chest. I wasn’t going there. No way in hell. “No hospitals! I’m not going to a fucking hospital. I won’t!”

“I know—”

“There’s no way in hell you’re taking me!”

“I know,” he repeated. Carefully, he took a step closer. “But I need to stop the bleedin’. Okay? You can’t keep bleedin’ all over the place, now can you?”

“No.”

“Right,” he said. Reaching into his coat, he took out a handkerchief. “Put your hand out, West.”

My hand shook violently as I did what he asked.From alcohol? Fear? Pain?I didn’t have a fucking clue. My body was on full autopilot and I was along for the unwanted ride.

“I’m just goin’ to take a look at it,” he told me. When he took hold of my wrist to steady me, a pathetic whine passed through me. The simple contact was fucking torture. It set my skin on fire, burning all the way down to the bone. All I wanted to do was pull away. Instead, I turned my face into the car I was practically huddled against, desperate to hide the stupid tears I couldn’t control either.

He was gentle but everything still hurt. My nerves were fucking shot and in overdrive. That piece of fabric he wrapped around my hand grated against my skin—razors I had to wear to stop the bleeding.

I sucked down air, barely holding my own.

I could do this… I could do this…

“Let me drive you home, West,” Mickey said quietly as he let go of me. My arm fell limp, buzzing and painful in ways I’d never be able to describe. “You can’t be on your bike anyway.”

I just nodded. I didn’t know what the fuck to do with myself.Too broken to fight back and too fucking tired to try.

Mickey drove me back to the ranch. Despite his protests, I managed to get him to drop me off at the stables.Couldn’t go back to that damn house.Wouldn’t go home with him either.

Numb head to toe, I walked lock-legged toward the stables with his headlights at my back. He watched me like a fucking hawk, making sure I made my way inside.

Which I did long enough for him to pull away. I couldn’t stay here. I didn’t know where the fuck I was going as I grabbed my truck keys, but I just had to get the fuck out of there.

CHAPTER 15

jackson

Fuckingphone.I dragged my pillow over my face as my phone rang a second time.Jesus fucking Christ.It was two in the fucking morning. No one should fucking need me.

If it went off a third time, I’d answer.

I regretted that thought as my phone did just that. Grabbing it and not recognizing the number, I answered.

“The fuck do you want?” I snapped, not bothering to hold my temper.

“Sorry for the late call, Jackson. I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.”

“Keating?” I sat up, groaning as I did. Marcus Keating was the town’s sheriff—had been since before I was born. The man was old, but what need did we really have for a sheriff in our town? Nothing ever fucking happened. “What can I do for you?”

“I got Dakota McNamara sitting here—”

“What the fuck did he do now?” I demanded.