Page 80 of Love on the Line

“Wyatt.” She rushed to his side. Grabbing his hand, her gaze raked over him. “I was so scared that you...that I might not see you…that—”

“Shh, I’m okay, baby.” He squeezed her hand. She wasn’t okay. A deep-seated need for revenge made his blood boil. “What happened to you?”

She blinked repeatedly and squeezed his fingers. “I have a concussion, but I’m doing better. It’s you I’m worried about with internal bleeding.”

A concussion? His blood went from a boil to molten lava. Whoever did this had better end up in a cage with rats. “They ran tests last night and found some bleeding under the ribs. Wanted to keep me for observation. The doctor came by after I talked to you this morning. She said I’m stable and should be able to go home tonight. How are you feeling?”

“Better today. I have a headache, but the CT scan was negative, so I’ll be all right.” She let out a huge breath and reached across the bedrail to hug him, but stopped short, planting a kiss on his forehead instead. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her oversized T-shirt caught his attention. “What are you wearing?”

She drew back and glanced down. He eyed the baggy sweats that couldn’t be hers.

“Everything was insane last night. The EMT’s cut my clothes off, and I didn’t have anything to wear. I went to Devon’s house to catch a few hours of sleep, and he gave me these. Emily’s going to bring me my clothes later. I didn’t want to waste time going to my place before I came here.”

“Wait.” Wyatt fought to focus through his drug-fogged brain. “You slept at Blackwood’s? I thought they took him to the police station and you went to the ER?”

“He came to the hospital to check on us, and…it was three in the morning by then. They wouldn’t release me without a ride home.” She shrugged. “He offered to take me to Sarah’s, but she lives so far, and I knew I was coming back here soon. So I stayed at his place. It was actually very generous of him.”

Generous, yeah, that’s the word Wyatt would use. Both of their phones dinged with messages, but they could wait. He took a breath. Still pissed at himself for failing to protect her, he probably was projecting that onto Blackwood. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with crashing on his couch for a couple of hours.”

She rubbed the base of her neck and shuffled her feet.

His internal radar went up. She wasn’t telling him something. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She cleared her throat.

“Come on. I know you better than that. Tell me.”

“I fell asleep on the couch, but woke up in the guest room. I didn’t remember going there.” Her nose crinkled and she tilted her head. “He said he carried me to it, but I didn’t remember that either.”

A stink bomb exploded in Wyatt’s gut. Carried her to bed? That crossed a line. “What did you say to him about that?”

Touching her temple, she closed her eyes. “Nothing. I thought it was kind of weird, but really, he’d been so nice to me. He said he wanted me to be comfortable.”

“And you don’t remember anything?”

“No. I was pretty exhausted and still kind of in a fog.”

Agitation burned his stomach. That would make it damn easy for someone to take advantage of her. “Could anything else have happened that you might not remember?”

Her eyes widened, and she took a step back. “I can’t believe you’d ask that. Devon risked his life for us in that alley and helped me when no one else was around.”

Ouch. That stung. Now he’d made her mad. But damn it, couldn’t she see how wrong that was? She and Blackwood had only had two business meetings together and weren’t even friends. No way he should be picking her up, especially if she wasn’t awake. And taking her to a bed? No. Just no.

A man wearing an apron and hair net entered, holding a tray with muffins, fruit cups, juice, and coffee. He turned to Anne. “Are you Ms. Cooper?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Blackwood said to tell you he was concerned that you hadn’t eaten this morning and hoped you would enjoy this.”

Wyatt snorted. Perfect. Just perfect.

The food-service man set the tray on the stand next to the bed.

“Thank you,” Anne said as he left.

Wyatt’s phone dinged repeatedly as more texts came in. He snagged it and tapped the screen. His blood pressure sky-rocketed, and fire scorched the back of his eyes.

What the fuck?

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