“I’ll be fine on my own.”
“I’m sorry, but if you don’t have someone to stay with, we’ll have to keep you here.”
“No worries, doc. She’ll stay with me and our daughter.” I look up at him, wondering if the doctor has it wrong and a grade two concussion is an inaccurate diagnosis.
Owen looks at me with no hint of humor on his face.
The doctor seems confused. I’m sure he’s seen some interesting things in his day, so he doesn’t comment. I think I’m more surprised by Owen’s statement than anyone.
“Okay, then. We’ll have your boot ready shortly, and we’ll keep you here for a few hours to make sure nothing changes. If things look stable, we should have you on your way home this evening.”
“Thank you,” I say, still dumbstruck by Owen.
Once we’re alone, he strokes my head gently. Watching me. His fear is gone, replaced by something else I don’t have a name for. The way he slides my hair from my face is so tender. So sincere. My insides tremble at the implications of what a touch like this means. I have no idea what to do with the feelings it evokes as that four-letter word sneaks its way back into my thoughts.
Softness lingers in his eyes, but a sense of purpose takes over as he speaks and breaks the spell. “Listen, I have to drive my patrol car back to the department and get my truck. If you’re okay, I’ll stop by your place and get some of your things.” He pulls out his phone. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll grab it.”
I don’t argue with him. Instead, I give him a list that includes some clothes, my skin care routine, computer, and paperwork. He grumbles about the work items, but I know they’ll be waiting for me once I bust out of here. He repeats my list back to me and slips his phone into the pouch on his vest made just for the device.
“Try to behave while I’m gone and don’t hurt that beautiful brain of yours. Give another thought to calling your family or one of the girls. They’re gonna be pissed when they find out you chose not to call them.” He places a tender kiss on my forehead. “I won’t be long, but if you need anything, call me. I’ll always come running for you,” he confesses. His breath caresses myskin, when he brushes one more press of his lips against my forehead.
And just like that, he’s gone. Leaving me to drown in his sweet words and gentle touches. I may have made it through my fall, but I’m not sure I’ll make it through five days alone with Owen unscathed.
Chapter Twenty-One
Owen
Behind the wheel of my patrol car, I sit in the hospital parking lot for a few minutes to catch my breath. The chaotic emotions of the last few hours have taken its toll on my heart. The fear that crept its way into my soul when I saw her lying on the rocks is unlike any I’ve ever felt.
It consumed me.
As I watched the EMTs work on her, all I thought was that she had to be okay. If Daisy wasn’t okay, I would never be okay again.
But when the responding officer came to talk to me while she was in imaging, blind rage ripped through the fear I had for her wellbeing.
Daisy didn’t fall.
She was pushed.
The woman who had called 9-1-1 and was holding her hand when I arrived, saw the whole thing. The bastard she was withpushed her and then ran off the trail. Witnesses watched him sprint through the parking lot and drive away.
Daisy doesn’t remember what made her fall, or the minutes that led up to it. The doctors think the backpack she had on saved her by cushioning what should have been a deadly fall. I think the fucker weighted it down to make sure she fell hard and fast.
Detectives recoveredWesley’scar at the Redmond airport. The vehicle had fake plates, and had been reported stolen two years before. His profile has vanished from the dating site where he’d connected with Daisy, and wouldn’t you know it the name he gave her belonged to a deceased man from Boulder.
The asshole is gone with the wind, but Iwillfind him. And when I do. I will tear him limb from limb before I kill him.
While I was waiting for her to come back to the ER, the county officer and I spoke with the hospital staff. I made it clear that if anyone called and asked about her; she wasn’t here. Never was.
When her scans came back showing nothing more than a concussion, it was as though all my prayers had been answered. Then I looked at her, covered in scrapes and bruises, and a goose egg on her forehead and my rage screamed to be set free. But it was not the time or place.
Is it wrong not to notify her family? Sure.
Does it make me want to bang on my chest with pride that she trusts me with her secret? Yes, indeed.
Should I collect more information before informing her and her family about the attempted murder? Yes.
When the doctor said she couldn’t be alone for the next week, there was no other option than me. Was that because she wouldn’t tell her family? Yes. Do I give a fuck? Abso-fucking-lutely not. She’ll be withmewhere she belongs.
