Page 105 of Worth the Wait
Warm. Sticky. Spreading.
With the adrenaline ebbed, it left behind the sting. The fire. And the gradual awareness that something wasn’t right.
Alfie scrambled up from the verge. “Dad?Dad!” He dropped to his knees beside him. “Oh fuck! Dad! You’re bleeding. You been fucking shanked!”
Nathan gritted his teeth, curled an arm around his son, holding tight. “Yeah. But you’re okay. Yeah? You’re okay?”
“Yeah, Dad, but you…”
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder, cutting through the rising noise of the crowd. Teachers shouted for space. Kids got their phones out. Someone cried. Someone else filmed the whole thing. But Nathan focused on calming Alfie as the ambulance screeched into view, tyres juddering against the kerb.
The doors flew open, and two paramedics jumped out. One woman, already speaking into her comms. The other a man with a golden halo of blond curls who dropped to his knees beside Nathan, pulling on gloves.
“Okay, mate?” He crouched to meet his gaze as he gently peeled Nathan’s hand away from the wound. “What’s your name?”
“Nathan Carter.”
“Nice to meet you, Nathan. I’m Trent. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
“Left side. Below the ribs.” Nathan’s voice was tight. “Can’t tell how deep.” He angled his head towards Alfie. “Priority’s the boy. My son. He’s not injured. Just… shook up.”
“He’s being checked now.” Trent nodded to someone behind him then cut through the fabric of Nathan’s shirt and his face said it all.
“Tell me,” Nathan said. “I’m ex-army.”
Trent held his gaze. “Then you already know how serious this is.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll stop the bleeding. Patch up what I can.” Trent’s hands moved quickly, efficiently. Then he paused. Brow furrowed. “You need to go to hospital.”
Nathan tried to ask, but the words didn’t come.
The edges of his vision blurred.
And as Trent called something over his shoulder, Nathan leaned back, eyes on Alfie, hand slick with blood, and tried not to show how much pain he was in
Nor how deep he knew that bladehad gone.
Chapter twenty-one
Conflict of Interest
Freddie had no idea what time it was when he finally blinked awake, and his chest flooded with that familiar, stomach-clenching panic.
Shit.Had he slept straight through? Missed roll call? Lost his job?
He flailed, smacking the bedside table. He hit his phone.Wait, when the hell did that get there?The screen lit up with a string of messages and missed calls. One that made his heart stutter. Cause it had the contact as, N8 (football emoji).
His smile spread before he could stop it, wide and unfiltered, and he grabbed the phone to sit up against the headboard, raking a hand through his sleep-ruined hair. At least he hadn’t slept through to the next night. A glance at the clock confirmed it. Three oh-seven p.m.
And as such, had a text from Piper, too.
I’m late, they’re gonna fucking bollock me! Why didn’t you answer?!
He smirked and fired back,
Coz I passed out after getting utterly railed by the hottest and biggest top in Worthbridge.
