Page 17 of Rear View
Darlin’.Why did the word sound so good? That stabbing started again with a vengeance. “It hurts.”
His tattooed forearm flexed when he gripped thewheel harder. “Just pain? Or you havin’ trouble breathing?”
I tested it on another breath, then shook my head and slumped farther forward.
“We’re close now. We’ll be there soon.” Several turns and a few minutes later, he coasted us to the ER drop-off.
My hand trembled as I sat up and reached for the handle. “Thank you, Xavier.”
His head snapped my way, and those etched, arctic eyes collided with mine. “You ain’t goin’ alone.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Nah. I’m not just ditchin’ you here.” Despite my agony, something hot settled inside my chest as he climbed out, stalked to my side and opened the door. Leaning past me, he eyed Alec. “You wanna take the car to the crew?”
“Can do,” he said, then slipped out and into the driver’s seat. “I’ll swing back to get you when I’m done.”
Xavier nodded.
“Feel better, Ryah,” Alec said.
I offered a feeble smile. “Thanks.”
Unclipping my seat belt, Xavier threw the strap of my bag over his chest before he cinched his hold around me again, and he carried me away. The rumble of the Jeep sounded as Alec took off and then it faded into the distance.
The sliding glass doors of the hospital’s emergency entrance tracked open. The place was busy enough, but the orange plastic chairs that filled the room weren’t completely packed. It smelled sterile, as if someone had just come through with a heavy chemical cleaner. A triage nurse wearing colorful, kitten-face-printed scrubs at the check-in desk turned our way as Xavier approached.
“She was struck by a cyclist,” he said. “Abdominal pain, upper right quadrant, hit her head-on the way down but her pupils are trackin’ fine.”
My eyes narrowed. That was…succinct. Almost as if he’d done it before.
She stepped to the side and grabbed a wheelchair. “Climb aboard and we’ll get you checked in.”
Xavier lowered me into it.
The nurse asked a series of questions—name, date of birth, health card and all the other necessaries to log me in to the system—then said, “Okay, this way, please.”
She aimed my wheelchair down the hall and Xavier stepped in, guiding me along behind her. Cutting a hard right, she led us to an exam room and gestured to the corner. He steered me there, then pointed me toward the door.
“Wait here and the doctor will be in soon,” she said, and left.
I picked at the dirt on my pant leg, gaze holding on my lap when I told Xavier, “You really don’t have to stay.”
He stepped back and faced me, his dark denim jeans sitting low on his hips, while his charcoal T-shirt molded to his very cut torso when he leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Gotta make sure you’re good.”
My chest did a little flip, and I hid behind the curtain of my hair. His coat smelled, like, really good. I must’ve looked ridiculous with it swimming over top of my own and covered in slush from my fall as if I’d just crawled out of a laundry hamper or something.
The door cracked open, and the doctor entered, head down in his tablet, fixated on some official…thing. His white lab coat hung mid-thigh, his blue scrubs clean. A stethoscope sat looped over the back of his neck, his erectposture clearly displaying the name tag that read “Dr. Vernon.” He was younger, somewhere in his late twenties, and had an arrogant air about him that grated me.
“Miss Nolan. My nurse tells me you took a spill,” he said, tone flat and completely disinterested. His eyes lifted, followed swiftly by the quick uptick of his brows. His attention raked over me, and nothing about it felt professional. Taking the stool beside the plinth, he sat himself down and rolled closer. Much closer. Too close. So close his knees pressed into mine.
I stiffened and swung my legs to the side to break away.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked gently as he set his tablet aside.
I fought the tightening of my stomach at his sudden shift. “Like I got run over by a bicycle courier.”
Xavier smirked.
