She was sure they’d contacted Gypsy and Quinn. The fact that they weren’t there yet spoke volumes. She’d screwed up—again. This time might be second only to what happened to Wick. And that wasn’t something anyone forgot.
Pain, shock, anxiety—they twisted through her like wire. Her wrist throbbed. Her ribs ached. The doctors called her lucky: minor fractures, a sprain, bruising. No internal injuries. But she didn’t feel lucky.
Using her good hand, she pushed herself up off the bed. A low groan escaped her lips as her feet hit the floor. She limped around the room, searching for her shoes, when the door swung open behind her.
She expected a nurse.
Not the people who walked in.
Not all of them.
Nothim.
“Brandi, what are you doing up?” Quinn’s voice cut through the haze. Her purse hit the counter as she crossed the room fast.
Quinn turned her, searching her face, her eyes scanning every bruise and shadow. “Let’s get you back in bed.”
“I need to leave,” Brandi muttered, trying to twist free.
“Gypsy, tell her to get back in bed,” Quinn said over her shoulder.
“Brandi. Get back in bed.” Gypsy’s voice was calm, measured. Unshakable.
“I can’t afford to stay,” she said, her voice cracking. “I have to pay for your SUV.”
“We’ve got insurance. It’ll take care of it. And the hospital? They’ll take five bucks a month if that’s all you’ve got.”
“I brought you clean clothes,” Quinn said with a gentle smile.
Echo cleared her throat. “Ibrought the clean clothes.”
“I brought food,” Lilly added, peeking around them with a hopeful grin.
Sloan shoved through the crowd, grabbed Brandi’s chart, and started flipping through it. Bishop was right behind her, and she handed it off without a word.
“You’ll be fine, chick,” Sloan said with a shrug.
Bishop ,on the other hand took the chart and walked up to bed. “Sloan draw the curtain. I want to look at her injuries.” He saw Tool’s expression and ignored it.
Sloan pulled the curtain closed and watched as Bishop helped Brandi lie back. Then he lifted the gown to inspect her ribs and check the bruising from the seatbelt.
He massaged her torso and listened to her moans and groans. “Have they given you any injections for blood clots?”
“No.” Brandi looked from Sloan to Bishop. “Should they?”
“The bruising is deep. But I don’t see any issues.” Pulling her gown back down he signaled for Sloan to open the curtain.
They hadn’t moved back from Brandi when Layla came through the door.
Layla stepped in next, holding up a Solo cup like it was a flag. “Sounds like we’re moving the party here, ladies.”
Quinn gave Echo a look as she tried not to laugh. “Layla…”
“I got her,” Angel muttered from the doorway.
In the corner,Toolstood still. He hadn’t said a word.
Brandi’s eyes flicked to him—just for a second—but she saw it. The way his jaw clenched. The way his hands curled into fists, then loosened. He was fighting something. The need to go to her. The instinct to stay hidden. To keep thema secret.
