The drive from the fairgrounds passed in a blur. I kept my hand on the small of Sienna’s back through the lobby and didn’t drop it until the hotel room door clicked shut behind the four of us.
The adrenaline finally crashed, leaving a deep burn in my left shoulder. The roar of twenty thousand screaming fans still rang in my ears, but inside the cramped hotel room, the only sound was the rattling air conditioner.
At least, until Wren threw her purse onto the desk and rounded on me.
"You are such an idiot," she said. "A stupid, reckless, lucky damn idiot."
"For once, I'm with her." Colt dropped the truck keys on the dresser with a sharp smack. "You took ten years off my life, man."
"Oh, come on."
"No." She jabbed a finger at me. "You don't get to 'oh, come on' this one. The doctor said stay, and what do you do? Sign that damn paper and walk right out."
She turned on Sienna before I could answer.
"And you—sit down. You wouldn't even let the medics check you."
Sienna sank onto the edge of the bed, wincing. "I'm okay. Brock took most of the impact."
Wren's eyes narrowed. "Honestly, what is wrong with you two? Move your hand and let me see."
She crouched in front of her and lifted the hem of Sienna's T-shirt a few inches. A purple bruise spread across her skin, stamped perfectly with the curved shape of my belt buckle.
Guilt hit me like a kick to the ribs.
That bruise was on me. I’d known how fast that alley could turn ugly, but I’d still let her stay. Selfish. I’d wanted her close, and now she was flying home with my buckle branded into her.
Colt scrubbed the back of his neck. He looked between us and clapped his hands.
"Alright. You two look like hell, so you're staying put right here." He glanced at Wren. "Come on, sis. We're making a pharmacy run, and we'll grab some pizzas while we're out."
Wren stood, squeezed Sienna's shoulder, and followed Colt to the door. "Wow. You had a decent idea for once. I'm shocked your brain didn't explode from the effort."
He snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Keep runnin’ your mouth and I’ll tell Dad who really backed his truck into the fence post.”
I pushed off the wall. "Hold on. That was you?"
My sister didn't even glance back. The door clicked shut behind them, and the room went quiet.
I turned toward Sienna. She stared back, her arms wrapped tight around herself, dirt streaking her jaw.
"You should lie down," I said.
"I'm fine." She waved a hand. "You're the one bleeding through your shirt. Get over here."
I didn't want to sit. I wanted to pull her against my good side, to feel her breathing. But my left shoulder throbbed with a heartbeat of its own, so I lowered myself onto the edge of the mattress.
Blood soaked the fabric over my shoulder, drying stiff and sticking to my skin. I unbuttoned the shirt one-handed to check the damage. Three buttons in, I rolled my arm to shrug the fabric off. Pain shot down my back, forcing a sharp hiss through my teeth.
"Stop," she said. "You're gonna rip the stitches."
She stood up from the mattress, stepped into the space between my knees, and batted my hand away. Her warm fingers took over the buttons. Reaching the left side, she leaned close.
Her fingertips brushed my chest as she eased the sleeve off my arm. I clenched my jaw and stared over her shoulder at the ugly floral wallpaper, fighting the urge to pull her against me.
She peeled the ruined shirt off completely and tossed it onto the floor.
"Oh, Brock," she whispered.
