He was just slipping his hands beneath her top when the ringing of his cell interrupted.
Goddammit.
He growled and pulled it out of his pocket to see it was his mother.
“Maybe you should talk to her,” Indie said quietly. “You’ve ignored her last few calls.”
He watched it for another moment before shaking his head. “It’s getting late. I’ll call her tomorrow.”
The ringing stopped, and he quickly sent a text telling her he’d call in the morning, before shoving his cell into his pocket. It vibrated with a voice message. It could wait. “Let’s get out of here.”
They packed up and started the hike home. Colt scanned the trees the entire walk, his hand hovering over his concealed holster. If he was on his own, he’d probably welcome an attack. Because if his father did that, Colt would have cause to attack back.
Twenty minutes later, they were back home. He stepped into the kitchen and lifted his cell to listen to the voice message just as Indie’s phone rang.
She frowned. “It’s Jesse.”
As she turned to answer it, his mother’s voice message began. “Colt…help!”
He straightened, every muscle in his body locking at the fear in her voice. At her breathlessness. Was she running? There was the sound of wind over the line.
“It’s Gordon! He…he shot Ben and he’s going to—” Suddenly, his mother’s scream pierced the line. Then his father’s angry growl. A thud cut through the line—and it went dead.
Indie turned back to him, face white. “Colt, your mother and Ben have been rushed to the hospital. It’s not good.”
Indie couldn’t stopher foot from tapping against the linoleum tiles of the hospital floor. It was a nervous gesture. But she didn’t want to be nervous right now. She wanted to be strong for Colt. She wanted to be whatever he needed.
Sylvia’s chest rose and fell in slow succession. The deep bruising on her cheek was dark, and God, there were so many tubes attached to her.
She was asleep. She’d been asleep since they’d stepped into the room.
Indie’s heart broke for the woman. It didn’t matter that Sylvia had never treated her well. No one deserved this.
Colt’s boots thudded against the floor as he paced the room. He wasn’t okay, and the need to make this better for him, to fix this, ran so deep it consumed her. But there was nothing she could do. She felt helpless.
The door opened, and she stood as a middle-aged man in a white lab coat stepped in, folder in hand. “Good evening. It’s good to see you again, Mr. Reed. I’m sorry it’s under such unhappy circumstances.”
“Dr. Leeroy. This is my wife, Indie.”
The doctor dipped his head in her direction. “It’s nice to meet you, Indie.”
“You too.”
“How is she?” Colt asked.
“Your mother sustained quite serious injuries. Two cracked ribs. A broken finger and a fractured elbow. But it’s the injuries to the head that we’re most concerned about. She has a significant concussion, so we’d like to keep her here for a few days for monitoring.”
Colt’s muscles visibly tensed. Indie stepped behind him and touched his back, trying to offer just a little bit of comfort.
“But she’ll be okay?” Colt asked.
“We’ll keep monitoring, but after a lot of rest, I believe she will. She’s heavily sedated tonight so won’t wake until morning.”
Colt nodded, but the action was sharp and short. She could feel his anger. It rippled off him in waves.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Indie said softly.
She waited until the man closed the door behind him to step in front of Colt and touch his chest. “What can I do?”
