“Thanks for coming,” I said, and meant it. Even if I didn’t fully trust the wolf alpha, he showed up when it counted.
Callum gave me a lazy shrug. “Next time, make sure the winning punch happens in the baking tent. Would’ve been great for the drama. I’m looking forward to next year’s competition already.”
I huffed, too tired to argue.
Rafael approached with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
“Brought clothes,” he said, handing me a bundled hoodie and joggers. “Figured you didn’t want to flash the whole town on the drive back.”
“Speak for yourself,” Callum muttered. “That would’ve definitely won you first place.”
“Not helping,” I said, but there was no heat in it.
Rafael passed Sean sweatpants and one of my oversized shirts.
Sean managed to change while I kept a careful eye on Orin and Vito, who were still out cold and not going anywhere.
By the time we made it back to the car, Sean was already half-asleep again in my arms.
I settled him into the passenger seat as gently as I could, tucking the hoodie around his shoulders and buckling him in. I turned the heat on, even though the summer air was still warm.
He was shivering. Rafael leaned in the driver’s side window just as I got behind the wheel.
Sean blinked up at him. “Did we… win?”
Rafael chuckled. “Second place.”
Sean’s face crumpled. “Oh.”
I reached for his hand across the console. He curled his fingers through mine like he couldn’t stand not touching me.
“We’ll be first next year,” I said softly, pressing my thumb over his knuckles. “I promise.”
Sean gave me the ghost of a smile. “We better be. I nearly died for that those pastries.”
“You looked good doing it,” Rafael said, winking, then stepped back to let me pull out.
The drive to the hospital blurred around me. I kept glancing at Sean every other second, watching the rise and fall of his chest like I didn’t trust it to keep going on its own.
He stayed quiet, but he didn’t let go of my hand.
We pulled into the emergency bay, and before I’d even cut the engine, nurses were out the doors with a gurney. The sheriff must’ve radioed ahead.
Sean tried to stand on his own, stubborn as ever, but his knees buckled and I was there in an instant, scooping him up again and carrying him inside.
The fluorescent lights made every bruise on his face stand out in stark contrast. One eye was already swelling, his lip split open.
Claw marks streaked his chest, and blood had soaked through the waistband of his sweats where claws must’ve torn skin.
He was silent as the nurses laid him out and began cleaning his wounds.
One of them, a redhead named Talia who sometimes picked up Bear & Bun orders, glanced at me and said softly, “We’ll take care of him, Beau.”
I nodded once, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
They cleaned his cuts, stitched a few deeper ones, bandaged the worst of them, and hooked him up to fluids.
I never left his side. When the doctor finally stepped in. He was an older panther shifter with kind eyes and a tired voice. He gave me a reassuring smile.
