She sighed and relaxed into me. “That was insane. I did not have being held by knifepoint on my bingo card today.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Me neither, baby. Me neither.”
The paramedics showed up five minutes later. I hated every second of them touching her.
One checked the cut on her neck while another wrapped her scraped elbow from when she fell. The cut wasn’t deep and bruises would come tomorrow.
I was gonna have bruises too. On my fucking soul.
“I’m okay,” Josie said for the tenth time.
The medic looked at me. “She really is going to be okay. It’s up to her if she wants to go to the hospital to get checked out.”
“She needs to get checked out,” I said.
Josie rolled her eyes. “He’s being dramatic.”
I barked out a laugh. “You had a knife to your throat,” I pointed out as if it wasn’t obvious.
“And somehow I’m the calm one in this situation right now.” She looked at the paramedic. “I am fine, and don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“You should just get checked out, baby,” I tried to reason.
She shook her head. “ I am fine, and I’ve accepted that today was just weird.”
“Weird?” I stared at her.
She nodded seriously. “I mean, the past month has been weird if I am being honest. I opened an ice cream shop, got called a fat whore, dated a tattoo artist who apparently hangs out with bikers, got almost taken out by a psycho with a knife, and found out said tattoo artist loves me.”
I blinked. “When you put it like that...”
“Busy month,” the paramedic laughed. “I’m going to go write my report. If you do start feeling anything off, just get to the hospital, okay?”
Josie nodded and gave him a salute. “Got it.”
I shook my head and looked away, laughing under my breath.
Jesus Christ. I almost lost her, and here she was saluting the damn paramedic.
The sound of motorcycles rolled down Main Street. A minute later, Skid, Prez, Cash, and Mack came walking into the shop.
Every one of them stopped when they saw Josie sitting on the floor wrapped in a blanket.
Skid pointed at me. “You left her alone for twenty damn minutes.”
“I was doing inventory, and your phone call came about ten minutes too late. Next time give me more of a heads up when there is a psycho on the loose with a knife.”
“Damn, doll, you were in a knife fight and lived to tell about it,” Cash said as he crouched in front of her.
“It wasn’t a knife fight,” Josie said. Everyone looked at her. She lifted a shoulder. “It was more of a knife hostage situation.”
Skid snorted.
Prez rubbed a hand over his beard. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
