Page 55 of Smooth Moves
Jordan sighed. “You’re not being smart about this. If I had my head caved in by a dumbbell, you’d tell me to get help.”
“Yeah, but you’re little.”
Her mouth flattened. “Try again.”
“I mean, he didn’t hit me that hard.”
“He’s bleed—”
Cash talked over her brother. “It hurts, but I’ve been hit plenty of times before.”
“That I can believe,” her brother muttered.
“And I know what a real head wound feels like.”
Jordan just stared at him. “It’s official. You’re a moron.”
“Hey!” Too loud. “I mean, hey. I’m hurt, not stupid.”
“Seriously? I don’t know what I was thinking listening to you.” Her eyes widened when she saw the blood he’d been trying to hide. “No, no, no. Cash, get in the fucking car.”
He’d never heard her sound so…mean. And he was in no mood to argue, so he grumbled as he got to his feet and followed her out to her vehicle.
Rafi had come with them, but she turned and stopped him. “Rafi, please stay here. I’ll be back when I can.”
“I’m good. If you’re not back before school tomorrow, I’ll get myself up and going.” The boy nodded at Cash. “He looks like walking death. Go on. I’m good.”
“I’m fine, I said,” Cash grumbled, but no one seemed to be listening to him.
She looked torn, and Cash felt like a heel for making her leave her brother alone. It wasn’t that late yet, but Jordan had a life. One that didn’t have to be constantly fucked up by Cash if he could help it.
He swallowed his pride, needing his brother after all. “Hell. Jordan, just take me home, okay? I swear I’ll get medical help. Reid can take me.”
She stared at him, and he didn’t know what she saw. But she seemed to make a decision. He just hoped she wasn’t considering putting him down, like a dog.
When he suggested she might, she swore at him and helped him into the car then walked her brother back to the apartment complex. Once behind the wheel, she drove him…not toward his house but to an emergency clinic.
“What are you doing?”
“Shut up. You have insurance, yeah?”
He shrugged. “Probably in my wallet.”
“Get it.”
He reached back, slowly, for his gym bag and grabbed it. She took it from him then helped him out of the car at the clinic.
“You’ve done this before.”
“I was an MP in the Army, so yeah. Lots of drunk and disorderlies.” She grinned at him. “You’re certainly disorderly.”
He stopped them at the doorway to the clinic, alarmed at how nice it felt to be cared for. “Seriously, you don’t have to do this. I don’t want to take you away from Rafi.” He swallowed, the knot of feeling for this woman growing. “Thanks for getting me here.”
She pointed at the door. “Oh, we’re not done. Let’s go.”
“I’ll get help. I’m here, I might as well.”
“How will you get home?”
