Page 79 of When the Storm Breaks
He took it off, leaving him in a T-shirt and handed it to me. I used it to dab off the blood on Shiloh’s forehead and even though my touch was gentle, she winced. “Do you have any other injuries? Where else does it hurt?”
She shook her head a little and wrapped her hand around my wrist, pulling it away. “I’m fine.”
Stormy grays locked onto mine and I saw a world of pain and sadness that seemed to go deeper than tonight’s accident. “Brody,” she whispered, her eyes welling up with tears again.
“Hey. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. We need to get you to the hospital.”
“No. I’m fine. Just... take me home, okay? Please.”
Her whole body was trembling from the shock and the longer we stayed in my parked truck, the worse it would be for her.
“Get in the truck,” she said. “You’re getting soaked.”
I almost laughed at that. I was drenched and so was she. “A little rain won’t hurt me. Everything is going to be fine. Let’s get you home.”
“What about the deer?” She wrung her hands in her lap and gnawed on her bottom lip. “We can’t just leave her on the road.”
“I’ll move her into the field and come back in the morning to take care of everything.”
“I’m the one who hit her... I should be the one to—”
“You don’t have to worry about anything,” I assured her. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Why are you so good to me?”
“I’m just doing what anyone would do.”
She shook her head. “No. Not all men are like you, Brody.”
Then you’ve been with the wrong men. What kind of jackass wouldn’t reassure her and tell her everything was going to be fine?
“Need help, bro?” Ridge asked from the back seat.
“Nah. I got it.” I tossed his flannel shirt in the truck. I’d wash it later. “Just stay in the truck with Shiloh.”
He nodded, probably relieved. Ridge wasn’t a country boy, he’d grown up in a city, so he wasn’t all that comfortable around animals, let alone dead ones. I closed Shiloh’s door then walked over to the doe and crouched in front of it, my back to the truck. Just to make sure there was no hope, I felt for a pulse, but she was gone, eyes still open and staring blankly at the sky. Even in the pouring rain, coat wet and matted with blood, the white-tailed deer was a thing of beauty.
Animals were so pure and innocent. They didn’t stab you in the back or break your heart or spread rumors. They weren’t greedy, taking only what they needed to survive, and they only fought to protect their young or their territory or when they felt threatened.
I stood up, grabbed the doe by the hind legs and dragged her into the field. She was dead weight, weighing as much as I did, so it was slow going but I kept dragging her until she was in the tall grass where I left her to rest. Tomorrow I’d call the games warden, and have it dealt withafterI had Austin’s truck towed. No need to alert the media that Shiloh Leroux had hit a deer in a borrowed truck.
Catching some rainwater on my hands, I scrubbed them together then wiped them on my soaking wet T-shirt. A bolt of lightning lit up the sky. In the distance stood three deer, one of which was a fawn, a stark relief to the dark landscape.
I turned away and walked back to the truck with the doe’s blood still on my hands.
Before I could climb into the driver’s seat, one of the county sheriff’s black SUVs pulled up in front of my truck.Fuck.
He stepped out of the SUV, his black cowboy hat coming into view and then his ruddy face as he came to stand in front of me. Double fuck. I reached inside my truck and took my keys out of the ignition. “I’ll take care of this,” I told Shiloh, my voice low. She opened her mouth to protest. “Just stay quiet. It’s all gonna be fine.”
I turned to face Silas Barnes. I hated the fucker.
“Brody McCallister. It’s been a while.”
Not long enough. “How’s it going, Sherriff?”
“That your truck?” He jerked his chin at the blue Chevy.
“Nope. Belongs to a friend.”
