He hissed through his teeth as Trip continued to poke at him, then tensed a little more when he saw Harper out there, going to her truck, then climbing in.
"You okay?"Trip asked.
"Yup.I'll be better when you're done, but I'm fine."
He ceased to even notice what Trip was doing as he watched Harper.Maybe she had phone calls of her own to make.She told him she wasn't leaving, so he hoped that was true.She'd been a real asset in the clinic this afternoon.She tried to make light of it, but in Emmett's mind there was a good chance that she had saved him.The kid might have left when he had what he needed, but then again, given the state that he was in, he might have decided to turn around and put a bullet through Emmett's head before he left.
He frowned as he watched Harper.She seemed to just sit there at first, but then...was she laughing?Her shoulders were shaking.
Shit.
She was crying.She dropped her face into her hands.Even from this distance he could see the way her whole body shook.
"Am I hurting you?"Trip asked.
"No, you're good.It's not you."
If he could move, Emmett would have been out of the room and on his way down to her, but all he could do was sit and watch.He had no idea how long it lasted—seeing Harper fall apart and enduring Trip working on his shoulder seemed to take forever, and the former was by far the deeper wound.
Eventually, Harper straightened up and scrubbed at her face.He smiled a little when she seemed to address herself in the rearview mirror before blowing her nose.She brushed her hair and moved the mirror for a better view so that she could fix her makeup.When she was done, she climbed out of her truck and locked it, ducking her head to check the side mirror one last time.
Then she straightened up, squared her shoulders, and headed back toward the main entrance, wearing a smile that, if he hadn't just witnessed the last few minutes, would have fooled even him.
He made the right noises as Trip talked him through all of the details he already knew.He was lucky that the bullet had passed straight through.He’d need a heavy dose of broad spec antibiotics.Cracked ribs were one of the most painful injuries a guy could sustain, but at least these days, medical professionals didn't believe in wrapping them anymore.He just had to force himself to breathe deeply to avoid pneumonia, and in theory to do the other much harder thing—rest.
That was going to be a bitch.He didn't know how to rest, and it wasn't as though he could, even though he knew he'd have to.As strange as it might sound, the gunshot wound was the easiest of his injuries—all he had to do was keep it clean.
The problem, or at least it was going to be a problem for Trip when Emmett told him he was going home tonight, was the concussion.
Blane took his phone from his pocket, scowled as he read a text, then tapped away furiously before looking up and addressing them."That was Cash.He said he's not going to call you here at the hospital.He's going to take the girls with him, and we can call him when we get you home."
Trip straightened up."Oh, no.No way."
Blane gave Emmett one of his rare smiles."I had a feeling he was going to say that."
"Too damn right I am," said Trip."Concussion, Emmett.Overnight in hospital.No negotiation."
"I'm not negotiating—I'm going home."Emmett turned to Blane."Would you do me a favor and see if Harper's still waiting outside?"
Blane scowled.
"And if she's there, invite her in," Emmett added.
"You know damn well she'll agree with me," said Trip."She's not like the guys; Cash and Blane might think it's okay to let you go home, but..."
Blane came back in, and Harper pushed her way past him.Her bright smile looked genuine, and maybe it was, but now, Emmett knew what it cost her to wear it.
"How's it going, guys?"she asked."Are you all done in here?"
Trip frowned."We're far from done.He needs to stay overnight.The risk of concussion—"
Harper held her hands up defensively."Hey, don't start on me.I agree with you."She turned to Emmett."Don't tell me you're thinking about going home.If you're worried about the girls, I can go and stay with them."
He smiled."It's not the girls.I know they're fine.They're with Cash.It's me.I don't do well in hospitals.I'm going home."
"No, you're not," said Trip."You don't mess around with a concussion, Emmett.You know this.You need someone to wake you up every couple of hours."
"Never used to bother you back in the day," said Blane."We all had a concussion at one time or another—don’t remember you ordering anyone sent home."
