Page 59 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

Instantly, a vision of the scars crisscrossing his back flashes in front of me, and I suck in a sharp breath, remembering his anger that ignited when I dared to bring it up that night. When he said things that left me unsteady in ways I still haven’t wrapped my head around weeks later. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Pops grabs my arm as I move toward the house, holding me back. “He doesn’t want you to see him like this. Doesn’t even want me to. If he’s harsh with you, don’t take it personally.”

I narrow my eyes on him, giving him a tight smile. “I didn’t whenyouwere.”

He scoffs. “I wasnot—”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, old man. Just be careful at the lake.”

His hand tightens lightly around my arm in an affectionate squeeze. “I always am.”

I slip out of his hold and make my way up the two steps to their small porch, pushing open the door he left cracked when he came out.

An eerie silence settles over me, so unusual for the home that’s typically full of life and laughter when we’re here.

Not today.

Unease wraps around my spine and squeezes tightly as I kick off the boots I didn’t even bother to tie in my rush out of my place and instinctively move up the steps toward the bedrooms.

Something tells me that’s where he’ll be.

My bare footsteps hardly make any noise as I move down the hall. Pops’ bedroom stands open and empty, as do Dalton’s and the spare room that was his as a child.

I swallow thickly as I approach the half-open door to the bathroom.

A pained grunt carries from inside, freezing me mid-step, listening for anything else that might give me some idea what’s happening on the other side of the wooden slab.

More silence lingers.

I nudge it open with my hand and find Dalton standing with his thighs pressed against the counter, white-knuckle gripping the surface. His legs shake so badly that it looks like they may give out under him.

“Dalton?”

He tenses and peers over his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The sharp edge to his voice has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the obvious pain he’s in. If I hadn’t dealt with hundreds of patients in the same position, I might let it bother me, but coupled with Pops’ earlier warning about the condition I would find him in, I brush it off easily.

“Pops asked me to come down.”

“Of course, he did.” He snorts and shakes his head, squeezing his eyes closed. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t lookfine.”

“If I needed a fucking doctor, I’d go see him.”

I shake off the anger in his words as I approach, examining him for any signs of injury. “Do I need to go back out and ask Pops what happened, or are you going to tell me?”

He gives me an annoyed look, but the edges of his eyes and lips tighten, the pain winning out over his reluctance to come clean with me. “I was working in the barn, moving hay and feed, and my back just…gave out.”

Shit.

“Did you fall?”

Dalton presses his lips together and shakes his head. “No. I grabbed a beam to stop myself from face-planting and managed to keep myself upright long enough to get over to the cabin. Pops helped me up the steps.”

The waver in his voice tells me exactly how much agony he’s in, even if he’s doing his damnedest to try to conceal it. “Does this happen a lot?”

He squeezes his eyes closed again, dropping his head low, like he can’t even bear to hold it up anymore. “More lately…”

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