“Seriously, just get it over with and shoot me.”
A deep rumble vibrates from Ean’s chest. Of course he would find this shit funny. “Stop acting like my sister and man up.” He reaches over, tosses my hat and glasses at me, and extends a hand.
“I’m not a man. I just look like a twelve-year-old boy, remember.” I push his hand away, glowering, and gingerly sit up. I roll my neck, and it pops back into place. Sometimes, I miss my long hair on the back of my neck. But that also reminds me of what else I gave up that day.
I gave up the man I had started to fall in love with, a man who reminds me every day how much he hates my guts.
“What is really going on with you?” Ean asks.
I eventually stand, avoiding his gaze. “I’m hungry and tired,” I whine.
He grabs me by the shoulders. “Talk.”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, I reply, “Fine. I work my ass off to be here. I do everything asked of me. I train harder than everyone else, and I still keep falling down the scoreboard. My magic is all wonky and?—”
Ean leans in and narrows his eyes. “Bullshit. Try again.” I try to wiggle out of his death grip when a sharp pain shoots up from my ribs. Nausea rips through me, and I immediately lose mylunch. After I expel the meager contents in my stomach, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Clinic. Now!” Ean growls.
Still lost in my self-pitying thoughts, Mimi hands me a gown and instructs me to go to one of the examination rooms. Shit! Which room number did she say?
I peek into the first room I come across. It’s empty so I step inside and close the door. I toss my hat and glasses onto the exam table and begin to remove my layers of clothing. I didn’t wear a bra or my bindings today because my ribs already hurt from Beaver’s jab earlier. That asshole, while most of the guys pick on me, it’s mostly practical jokes and pranks. But Beaver is a straight-up bully. When he starts with me, he’s out for blood. I didn’t think I could hate anyone, but I loathe him. One day, I will hand him his ass and maybe even break those large front teeth of his.
“Hey, Doc! I forgot to ask?—”
Instinctively, I cover my chest and spin so my back faces the door.
“G?” Owen asks.
Still looking straight ahead, I clear my throat and answer in my raspiest voice, “Uh, yeah?”
“Holy crap, man. I always thought it was odd that you wore so much clothing. What the hell happened to you?”
“Can we talk about it later?” I reach over for the clinic’s examining gown, but I gasp at the catch in my ribs, and it drops to the floor.
He rushes forward. Panic rises as I desperately search for an escape or a place to hide. Of course, I chose a room without a bathroom.
Owen grabs me by the shoulder and turns me. “You alright? What the hell…” He bends down to pick up the gown, his gaze traveling directly to my partially exposed breast. I snatch it fromhis hand and cover the front of my body. He pulls his hand away, as if the briefest touch of my skin burned him, and steps back. “That’s a... you have a... shit!” He claps his hand over his eyes.
“It’s a… a bruise,” I stammer as I try my best to cover myself up with the gown.
“Yeah, that’s a big... uh... bruise. Right.” He continues backward, bumping into cabinetry along the wall, until finally he approaches the door. He drops his hand, focusing intently on my face. “I should... uh... I should... Fuck!”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Leave?”
He nods, spins around, and fights with the door—pushing it first when it should be pulled open. It is comical, really, but the fear clogging my throat isn’t funny.
The door swings open, hitting him in the face. Shadow’s tall frame fills the doorway. He takes one look at me and the haphazard gown I clutch over my upper half and then turns to Owen. “Get out,” he snarls.
Owen pulls the door wider and slips past Shadow, without a farewell glance.
Great, just fucking great.
Shadow slams the door and instantly stands in front of me. His upper lip pulls into a sneer, and he snatches my arm. “What the fuck was he doing in here?” Dark eyes drill into mine.
“He walked into the wrong room.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
