Chapter 11
Devon
Jealous Caydence was something I wasn’t prepared for. I didn’t think she had it in her, but she did. Not that she stood a chance against me. I could fuck half the city and still not let her go, although none of them appeal to me the way she does.
I’m sitting back with Wyatt when my phone rings with a number I don’t know. I answer it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Devon?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Megan. I got your number out of Caydence’s phone,” she says as I shift and sit forward.
“Where is Caydence?”
“She’s been in a car accident.”
“Where the fuck is she?” I yell this time. Megan tells me the hospital Caydence was taken to, and I quickly stand to leave, telling Wyatt what happened. He follows me out to the car and climbs in, saying he’s going with me.
I haul ass to the hospital when I see Megan.
“What room?”
“Two ten,” she replies. I nod my head and leave Wyatt with her as I stalk down the hallway. I find her room and barge in, not caring what they’re doing or if they’re in the room. She looksover at the same time as the doctor, but all I can see is her. Her pretty, bruised face.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I move closer.
“I’m fine.”
“She’s lucky,” the doctor says. I see the look on his face, and I already know some things about her past, but I intend to find out more now.
“Can I speak to you?” I ask the doctor. He nods his head, and I press a kiss to the top of Caydence’s head before leaving the room with him. Once we’re in the hall, I cross my arms over my chest.
“I know you,” I tell him. He nods.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Knight?”
“You did X-rays, I assume.”
“We did. Nothing was broken.”
“But before? Things were broken, yes?” He glances around before looking back at me.
“Old breaks and fractures. One rib didn’t heal correctly. Her arm was broken at one point, and so were multiple fingers.” Fuck! I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize just how bad. I nod my head, taking a deep breath before I thank him and walk back into her room. I walk over and sit on the edge of the bed, holding her hand.
“You’re going to be fine,” I tell her.
“I know. It was stupid. Some idiot ran the light,” she tells me. I make a mental note to contact my friend at the police station to find out exactly who that was.
“You feel okay? You want to get out of here?”
“Yeah. I just want to go home,” she says softly. I nod my head and stand, tugging my shirt over my head and passing it to her.
“It’s cold out,” she reminds me. I shrug and help her out of the hospital gown and into my shirt. It’s far bigger than her and hangs damn near to her knees, but it covers what needs to be covered. When she has her shoes on, I move toward her, lifting her gently into my arms.
“I can walk.”
