Christian’s expletive lit the day.
Brock didn’t have time for this. “Take her to the hospital for an examination and then to the jail.” He turned and strode through the storm to place Ophelia into the front seat of Ace’s truck, making sure the heat blasted on her. Then he jogged around and stretched inside, flipping the vehicle the other direction to head back into town.
“How did you find me?” Ophelia asked.
“Ace found David’s rig, and then Damian spotted you from the air. We thought David had you. Christian and I had already started searching the river road.” He had so much to say, but he didn’t have a lot of words. Still, he’d almost lost her, and right now, she sat safely ensconced in his truck. “You’re it for me, Ophelia.”
She jolted, her hand still applying pressure to her wounded arm. “Brock.”
“I know. It’s quick and crazy, but most of my life has been. I learned very early on that moments are short and you have to take the good when they come. Also, you never know what’s happening next. I don’t have time for games or to gently ease into feelings. I have them, you have them, and I’m not waiting around to make sure.”
She chuckled, but the sound held pain. “What are you saying?”
“Stay with me. Move in for good.” He didn’t want to push her too far or too fast. His girl seemed a little skittish sometimes. “We’ll court, date, hang out…whatever you want. But there’s a ring at the end of all that, as well as forever.” That might’ve been pushing it, but he’d never again hold anything back from her and would always give her honesty.
She swallowed. Her body shook—no doubt from shock. “Brock?—”
“Just think about it. Right now isn’t the time for you to make a decision like that.” He didn’t like the pallor of her pale face, so he pressed his foot harder on the gas. The vehicle fishtailed, but he easily brought the truck under control. “Take some deep breaths, sweetheart. You’re going into shock. The heat will help.” He turned down the main road and drove quicker since it had been plowed. The truck skidded into a parking spot outside the small hospital. “Don’t move.” She’d already tried for the door.
He leaped out and moved around the truck in seconds, gently lifting her from her seat. “I’ve got you.” He intended to keep her, but he’d probably hit her with enough for now.
Doc waited with a stretcher, looking professional in pink scrubs with her gaze steady. “How bad?”
“Upper arm shot,” Brock said, laying Ophelia down and helping roll her into an operating room that had already beenset up and ready to go. He nodded at the anesthesiologist and surgical nurse. Their only ones, retired transplants from the lower forty-eight who just helped out when necessary.
Doc started cutting off Ophelia’s top. “Out, Brock.”
“No.” He planted himself at the door.
Doc looked up, her gaze firm. “Get out. Now.”
He blinked. Well, okay. Frowning at her, he turned on his heel and strode out of the operating room to find his brothers already in the waiting room.
Ace shook snow from his hair. “Monica is in the second examination room. I used a zip tie, so she’s attached to the bed and can’t leave. The other nurse is in there with her.” He coughed. “I could stand guard but didn’t want to be anywhere near her.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Damian said, leaning against the wall. “There’s nowhere to go, anyway.”
“True,” Brock mused. “I’ll go arrest her officially now.” Guess he’d keep the sheriff job.
Christian remained near the door. “How is Olly?”
“Good. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s going to be planning a wedding this coming summer.” Brock grinned. Then he sobered. “After I arrest Monica, we need to head out to Leo’s with the news.”
Christian’s eyes flared. “Agreed. What a senseless death. Poor Tammy.”
“Agreed. Then we need to have a family talk.” Brock kept his voice firm. “The time for secrets is over.”
His brothers all nodded.
“Good.” Brock looked over his shoulder at the operating room. He hadn’t prayed in a long time. A very long time. But he said a silent prayer right now. Ophelia had to be all right.
She filled his entire future.
Just after supper,Ophelia settled into the comfortable lounge chair in Flossy’s living room. The fire roared hot and toasty, the blanket on her legs felt soft, and the painkillers worked nicely in her system.
Flossy’s gnarled hands moved rapidly as she quilted. She sat on the floral chair closest to the fire. “You came out of surgery mere hours ago, Olly. You should probably be in the hospital.”
“Hospitals make me edgy.” Ophelia looked at the fire with its deep orange coals. “Doc says I’m fine—or will be.”
