Page 95 of Truck You

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When I come to,I’m face down on the ground and every inch of my body hurts.

I’m also cold. Very, very cold. I also didn’t bother to grab my jacket when I ran out of the garage. My long sleeve t-shirt is not enough to keep me warm.

I lift my head, slowly blinking until my surroundings come into view. My eyelids are heavy, and everything is blurry. But not because my eyes won’t focus. There’s something on my face.

Moving one limb at a time—first my arms, then each leg—I slowly push myself up. Fuck, I hurt. But I don’t think I broke anything.

Blinking, I still can’t get my eyes to stay open. Did I hit my head too hard? Wiping my face, I quickly discover the problem. Blood is dripping down my face and over my eyes.

Using the hem of my shirt, I wipe my face. It helps, but the cut on my head is a gusher and a stream of blood immediately replaces what I wiped away.

The ATV is only a few feet away from me. It’s upside down and propped against a very large tree. I may feel like death from rolling down the hill, but it’s a damn good thing the tumble threw me from the seat. Something tells me I’d be in worse shape if the ATV trapped me between it and that tree.

Pushing to my feet, I find my bearings and continue down the hill to home. Thankfully, I didn’t make it that far into the woods before I wrecked, and it only takes about ten minutes before the house comes into view.

I pick up my pace, eager to get out of the cold and bandage my head. I can’t keep the blood out of my eyes. Plus, every inch of my body aches. The warmth of the fire I know Grams has lit is enough to keep me moving.

Sophia is the first to see me when I open the back door.

“Mac!” She jumps up from her seat and rushes to me. “Oh my God. You’re bleeding!”

“I’m fine.” I wave her off the same way she did to me, even though I know I’m not fine. The throbbing in my head is reminiscent of my racing accident. It’s not quite that bad, but it’s not good either.

“You’re not fine.” She takes my arm to help me into the kitchen. “And you’re freezing. Will someone grab a blanket?”

I have no clue who responds, but moments later one of Grams’ hand-knitted wool blankets is around my shoulders before Sophia shoves me into a chair. Between it and the warmth of the house, I instantly feel better.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” Sophia says after she gets a good look at the cut on my head. “This needs stitches.”

I shake my head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Mac. It won’t stop bleeding unless it’s closed up. This cut is deep.”

“Bandage it up. It’ll stop.” I insist. My tone is too harsh, and she winces.

“No!” Liam barks. “You’re going to the hospital.”

I shove Sophia’s hand away from my face and push to my feet. “Not going. I’ll bandage it up myself.”

“You will sit back down in that chair, young man.” Grams’ strong voice cuts through the tension and I freeze. “Not another damn word. I’m calling Dr. Koch.”

I fall back in my chair without argument. I don’t have to argue. My brothers do it for me.

“Aaron is not welcomed here,” Liam says. “I’ll drive him to the hospital.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Forget the damn feud for a moment and think about your brother.” Grams waves him off. Her phone is already in her hand and ringing. “Hi, Dr. Koch? This is Mila Mutter.”

Her voice trails off as she heads into the living room. As soon as she’s out of earshot, my brothers all turn and start on me. With all of them talking at the same time, I can’t follow what they’re saying, but from the tone, none of it’s good.

“Enough!” Sophia yells, and they all quiet. With her hands on her hips, she narrows her eyes on me and I wince. She may be worried about my injuries, but she’s still pissed.

She shakes her head and marches past me toward my room. “I’ll get you a clean shirt.”

“What happened?” Chase asks. I glance up and Liam, Chase, and Ash are staring at me with concern. But Christian isn’t looking at me. His head hangs low as if he’s hiding his shame.

I let out a deep sigh. “I’m a dumbass, that’s what.”

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