She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine in the darkness. “What are you going to do?”
“Same thing I did to everyone else from that warehouse.” I shift closer. “But right now, I need you to come out of there. Let me see you.”
She hesitates, then starts maneuvering out of the hollow. It’s awkward, and I can see her wince with every movement. When she’s finally free, I reach for her, pulling her against my chest. She comes willingly, collapsing into me like her strings have been cut.
“Where’s your boot?” I ask, looking down at her injured foot.
“I took it off. Threw it somewhere.” Her voice is small. “It was hurting too much, and I just—I needed it off.”
“Jesus, Emma.” I lean down to look at her foot properly. She’s at least got her compression sock on. But I can tell she’s hurt it, see the pain etched across her face, even though she’s trying to hide it. “You can’t just take off your surgical boot and run through the woods. You know that, right?”
“I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“No shit.” I cup her face. “Where’d you throw it?”
“Over there somewhere?” She gestures vaguely to the right.
I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight, sweeping it across the ground. It takes a minute, but I spot the surgical boot half-buried in leaves about twenty feet away.
“Stay here,” I tell her, shifting her off my lap and onto the ground before I retrieve it. The Velcro straps are tangled and covered in leaf litter. I do my best to clear it away before bringing it back to her.
“This is going to hurt,” I warn, starting to put the boot back on.
“Everything hurts right now.”
I’m as gentle as I can be, but she still hisses in pain as I work the boot back into place. Her face goes pale and she grips my shoulder hard enough that I feel her nails through my shirt.
“You probably set your recovery back a few weeks,” I say, securing the last strap.
“Worth it to get away from him.”
I look up at her. “Running is still your first instinct, huh?”
“What else was I supposed to do? Stay there and have a panic attack in front of two hundred people?”
“You could have signaled to me. Your dad. Any one of the brothers. Then we could have gotten you out of thereandgrabbed that guy before he could leave.”
“I wasn’t thinking, Bones. I just—I saw his face and I couldn’t breathe and I had to get out. That’s all I could do.”
I soften my tone, pulling her closer. “I know. You did what you needed to do. I just—I hate that you hurt yourself to get away.”
She leans her head on my shoulder, and I press a kiss on the top of her head before I stand, scooping her up along with me.
“Bones, I can walk?—”
“Not on my watch.” I adjust my grip, making sure her injured leg is supported. “You’ve done enough damage for one night.”
She doesn’t argue, just wraps her arms around my neck and rests her head against my shoulder as I carry her out of those woods.
“Someone’s going to be pissed about their car,” Emma mumbles against my skin as we pass the stolen Honda and reach my truck.
“Tank will handle it. Get it back to the owner, make everything right.” I settle her into the passenger seat as carefully as I can, then walk around to the driver’s side.
The drive to the clubhouse is quiet. Emma stares out the window, one hand pressed against her leg just above where the boot ends, like she’s trying to hold the pain in place.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“That I’m tired.” She doesn’t look at me. “That I’ve been tired for a really long time.”
