“Does this hurt?” Doc Reynolds asks, palpating my neck gently.
“That fucker put me in a headlock until I passed out. Yes. It hurts.”
“Raelynn, this is serious. Tears to the blood vessels in your neck can cause a pseudoaneurysm.”
I don’t know what that is, but it sounds serious, so I hold my hair back and let him examine me.
“Only a small bit of petechial hemorrhaging,” he says, more to himself than me. “Let’s take a look at that ear.”
I almost pass out from the pain. Lying on the big dining table with my head turned to give him full access to my mangled lobe, I watch the other members of Hidden Agenda—everyone but Wren—huddle in front of the monitors. They’re talking in low, hushed tones, and the screens are still dark, but I see at least one or two tablets. Rip and West, I think.
“How much longer, Doc? I need—”
“A hospital,” he mutters. “A chest x-ray. An orthopedist to examine that knee. But since that’s not possible, you’ll rest. For at least two weeks.”
“Hell no.” I push up on an elbow. Big mistake as he’d pressed a wad of gauze to my ear and the motion tears the wound open. “Shee-it!”
Ryker’s head snaps up, and he stalks over to us. “She’s bleeding again.”
“She wouldn’t be if she’d stay down. Don’t give me that look, McCabe. You called, I came. Like I always do. Only this time, I’m here. In the one place we agreed I’d never be.”
The doctor pinches what’s left of the bottom of my ear so hard, I have to stifle my whimper.
“You can’t afford to lose any more blood,” Reynolds says, gentling his tone. “Breathe through the pain. In. Out.”
My eyes water, but the tears don’t stop me from seeing the look that passes between the two men hovering over me. There’s more history there than I realized.
“I didn’t have a choice.” Ry rubs the back of his neck, the motion highlighting the bright pink compression bandage around his elbow. The man sat by my side for half an hour giving me his blood while Reynolds taped up my knee and three broken toes, cleaned the gash on my cheek, and asked me question after question to make sure I didn’t have a severe concussion. “We need her here.”
“F-for what?” Reynolds sputters. “She needs rest. Two weeks of it. At least. Maybe more for that knee. You can’t seriously expect her to be field ready after all this!”
“I’m not a fucking idiot.” Ryker’s frustration bleeds through his tone. “She’s benched until you—”
“Hell no.” This time, I’m careful not to move my head. But I reach up and grasp Ry’s forearm with all the strength I can muster. “You can’t. Nash…”
“You almost died!” he shouts. “On my watch. So you’re staying here with Rip and Wyatt while the rest of us go—”
“Enough!” Reynolds glares at Ryker. “You say another goddamned word and I’m taking my patient out of here. You broke our deal, and if I didn’t owe you…” He shakes his head. “Step away, McCabe. Or we’re through.”
The chair Ry used earlier sails fifteen feet, landing with a clatter next to the boxing ring. I’ve rarely seen our fearless leader this angry. “Patch her up and get the fuck out of here.”
With a sigh, the doctor goes to work cleaning and bandaging my ear, while Ry stalks back over to West and the team. “I’m sure you want to shower. But try not to get the wound wet. You can take the compression wrap off to wash your hair if you’re careful—or have help. But that’s it.”
Help.
The lump in my throat makes it hard to swallow. “I need to be field ready, doc. Please.”
“No.” He pulls off his gloves and tosses them into his bag.
“You don’t understand. Nash…he’s…”
The man’s eyes flash with such intensity, I snap my mouth shut. “No, you don’t understand, Raelynn. I’m a doctor. Maybe not a respected one, but I swore an oath. I broke it once. I won’t do it again.”
For a full minute, I’m too shocked to reply. But I can’t let him leave me like this. Unable to fight. To help save the man I’m falling for.
“Have you ever been in love?” I ask when he slides an arm under my shoulders and helps me sit up.
He gets a faraway look in his eyes and nods. “Once. You remind me of her.”
