The tech wheeled me down the hallway while Hawk walked beside us, still looming, still watching, like a hawk—no pun intended.
The X-ray room was cold, sending a chill through me. The technician positioned my arm carefully on the table. “Try not to move.”
Easy for him to say.
Hawk stood against the wall with his arms crossed, his eyes never leaving me. It was intense—like being under a spotlight.
The technician finished the images and stepped out to send them to the doctor. A few minutes passed in silence, the tension hanging in the air.
Finally, the doctor came in holding the X-ray images. “Well,” he said, pointing at the screen. “You’ve got a clean fracture in the radius.”
I sighed. “Of course I do.”
The doctor smiled, clearly used to patients with similar reactions. “We’ll get you set up with a cast tonight.”
Hawk stepped closer again, his posture shifting with concern. “How long?”
The doctor glanced at him. “Six weeks.”
Hawk nodded once, like that answer had been filed away somewhere important.
The nurse returned a few minutes later with the casting materials. The process took longer than I expected. Cold plaster wrapped around my arm while she carefully positioned my wrist. By the time she finished, my arm was encased in a bright white cast from my palm to halfway up my forearm.
“There we go,” she said, stepping back to admire her work. “Try to keep it elevated tonight.”
I looked down at the cast. “Well,” I muttered, “this is attractive.”
Before I could say anything else, Hawk stepped closer. His hand came up slowly, carefully, like the cast was something fragileinstead of plaster. His fingers brushed lightly over the edge of it, not testing, not pressing—just… checking.
His jaw tightened slightly as he looked down at my arm. Then he said quietly, “Next time someone grabs you, call me first.”
My stomach flipped, and I had absolutely no idea why. The protectiveness that radiated from him was palpable, igniting a spark deep within me. It was both comforting and unsettling, leaving me with a strange blend of emotions I wasn’t ready to unpack just yet.
But in that moment, with his presence looming over me and his concern evident, I felt a surge of something more than just gratitude. Something that hinted at a deeper connection, something I wasn’t quite ready to admit.
Hawk’s eyes softened for just a second, and it made my heart race. It was as if he recognized the weight of what had just happened, not just to my wrist, but to me.
And I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning.
Ten
Emma
Pain jolted me awake before the first streaks of sunlight broke through the horizon. It started as a dull throb deep in my arm, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.
For a few seconds, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out why my body felt like it had been dragged down a gravel road. Then I lifted my arm, and the bright white cast came into focus.
Right. The bar. The confrontation outside the building. The wall at my back. The punch. The run down the road. Hawk. The motorcycle. The hospital. Everything rushed back all at once.
I groaned and pushed myself upright carefully. The movement sent a sharp ache through my wrist. “Well,” I muttered to the empty room, my voice rough from sleep, “that escalated quickly.” Three fractures. Six weeks. Fantastic.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood slowly. Every muscle in my body protested as I tried to shake off the stiffness.
The house was quiet, peaceful in a way that made memories creep in—early mornings with my parents, the smell of coffee drifting through the house, pancakes sizzling in the kitchen. Sunlight filtered through the hallway windows as I stepped out of my room.
For a brief moment, I wondered if Hawk had already left. That would make sense; he didn’t strike me as the type to linger. But halfway down the stairs, I heard a voice. Low. Rough. “…yeah.”
I slowed my steps. Hawk was in the kitchen. On the phone.
