Page 12 of Thor

Instead, he simply tucked it back into my bag and zipped the compartment. "Your car's fucked," he said matter-of-factly. "And you need a hospital too, not just your sister."

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I'm fine. I just need to get to Ironridge Memorial. My sister had a reaction to her cancer treatment and—"

"I'll get you there." He cut me off with a certainty that left no room for argument. "Can you ride?"

Before I could answer, he was shrugging out of his leather cut—the Heavy Kings vest that members treated like sacred objects. He wrapped it around my shoulders, the leather still warm from his body heat.

"But your cut—" I protested, knowing what it meant.

"You're shivering and bleeding. Worry about your sister, not my damn vest."

He led me to his Harley, a massive black beast that gleamed even in the rain.

"Hold onto me," he instructed, mounting the bike and helping me climb on behind him. "Tight. Don't be shy about it."

I hesitated only a moment before wrapping my arms around his waist, feeling solid muscle beneath his wet t-shirt. The engine roared to life beneath us, vibrating through my entire body. Thor kicked the stand up and eased us back onto the road, gradually picking up speed as he headed toward Ironridge.

The rain stung my face, but Thor's broad back blocked the worst of it. His cut smelled of leather, cigarettes, and motor oil—strangely comforting as we raced through the night toward Amy. I closed my eyes and held on tighter.

Wemadeit.

The emergency room doors hissed open, blasting us with sterile air and fluorescent lighting that made my head pound. I stumbled slightly, my legs rubbery from the motorcycle ride and lingering shock. Thor's hand found the small of my back, steadying me without a word.

I caught my reflection in a darkened window—wild hair plastered to my skull, mascara streaked down my cheeks like war paint, dried blood crusting on my temple.

“Don’t worry, you look fine,” Thor said.

“I look deranged.”

He smiled.

“Probably best to get the blood off.” He touched my forehead gently. “Might want to wipe here. Don’t want your sister to think you’re there to get her.”

I licked my fingers and wiped the blood away.

The waiting room was packed—a Friday night special of drunk college kids, worried parents with feverish children, and the walking wounded of weekend mishaps. Every eye turned to us as we entered. We made quite the pair: me, a bedraggled mess wrapped in a Heavy Kings cut that hung to my thighs, and Thor, a mountain of tattoos and muscle, his wet t-shirt clinging to a chest broad enough to have its own zip code.

This wasn’t where I normally came to see my sister, but she’d been moved to an emergency room. I hoped that they knew I was coming.

I approached the reception desk on wobbly legs, Thor a half-step behind me. A harried nurse glanced up, her expression shifting from irritation to alarm when she saw the blood on my face.

"My sister's here," I said, my voice cracking. "Amy Wright. She had a reaction to her cancer treatment. They called me to come—"

"I need to see some ID, and you'll need to fill out these forms." She slid a clipboard toward me. "And you should get that cut looked at. Wait time is about two hours."

My hands trembled as I reached for my wallet. Two hours? Amy needed me now.

Thor leaned forward, placing one massive hand flat on the counter. "She needs to see her sister. Now." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a low, dangerous rumble that made the nurse's eyes widen. "She just survived a car wreck trying to get here. Check your records—the staff called her directly."

The nurse swallowed, her fingers flying over her keyboard. "Wright, Amy . . . yes, room 302, Oncology. Third floor." She grabbed a visitor's pass and handed it to me. "Go ahead."

Thor's hand returned to the small of my back as he guided me toward the elevators, parting the crowded waiting room effortlessly. It felt irritatingly good to be touched by him. People shifted out of our way without being asked, responding instinctively to his intimidating presence.

"Thank you," I whispered as the elevator doors closed.

He simply nodded, eyes forward. "Family's important."

The oncology floor was quieter, dimly lit for the late hour. A nurse directed us to Amy's room with a sympathetic smile that turned wary when she spotted Thor. He ignored her reaction, keeping pace with me until we reached room 302.

---