“Sure. I’ll just be out here, catching up with Matty,” Coyote chuckled.
Bull slammed the door closed in response.
“What happened?” he asked me again.
“I was mugged,” I lied.
He didn’t believe me and didn’t bother hiding that as he raised his brow at me. When I still refused to tell him the truth, he shook his head and said something under his breath in Hungarian that I assumed was a curse.
“Clothes off.”
“I only need you to look at my shoulder. It was dislocated.”
“Was?”
“Until Coyote put it back in place.”
He cursed again, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Clothes off.”
“I told you I—”
“Clothes off!” he snapped. “I maybe do not look it, but I am a doctor. And you are now my patient. So… Clothes. Off. Or get out. I help you my way or not at all.”
My face flamed, my blood boiled with humiliation. Heat built behind my eyes. I was normally so good at keeping my walls up, my emotions to myself. But my shield had been shattered to pieces tonight, and I didn’t have the strength to put it back together yet. Bull could see it all, and I hated the way his eyes softened.
“I want to help you. Okay? Let me help you.” He tried a softer tone.
I hated it. I hated that I needed help. Most of all I hated that Iwantedit.
Weak.
I let Bull assist me with getting my clothes off, and while he had an appalling bedside manner, he was surprisingly gentle.
He checked my shoulder, the scrapes and bruises, gave me some medication for the pain, then let me shower in the adjoining bathroom. I’d never in my life appreciated a shower as much as that one.
Once I was clean, he patched up all the scrapes and the small split in my hairline that was bleeding lazily, then gave me some clothes to wear from a drawer of others that all looked new and helped me with getting them on.
“I put yours in a bag?” he asked.
“No. Destroy them.”
He nodded, not asking any further questions. I was grateful for that.
“Wear for two weeks,” he instructed as he carefully positioned my left arm in a sling and secured it in place.
“Fine,” I responded, knowing I was ditching it the moment I left this place.
He huffed. And then we were done.
I’d expected Coyote would have left by now, but he was still waiting, sitting at the kitchen table with Cupid, who was now wearing a navy sweatshirt at least five sizes too big for him.
“You can rest in guest room,” Bull grumbled as he walked through the kitchen to the living room like he was in a rush to get somewhere.
“Matty isn’t staying in the guest room, then?” Coyote called after him.
Bull didn’t stop, continuing on his way until we could hear him stomping up the stairs.
“You shouldn’t tease people,” Cupid scolded, but then he winked. “I’m gonna go, umm… get the guest room ready.”
