Page 16 of My Protective Biker

"Since about two. I'll be ready."

"We're ten minutes out. Through and through, left shoulder. Entry front, exit back. Missed the bone. Bleeding's controlled but needs proper cleaning and assessment."

"I'll be ready," I repeat.

I hang up and get out of my car, medical bag in hand. At three-forty Tate's truck pulls into the driveway and I'm already moving toward the porch.

Tate opens the door as I'm coming up the steps. "Living room."

I follow him inside and see Roan on the couch where Tate and Carina just settled him.

No shirt. Left shoulder wrapped in field bandaging showing blood. Face pale but eyes clear and focused.

Something in my chest cracks open at the sight of him. The blood, the pallor, the evidence written across his skin that he could have died tonight.

My next breath comes in too sharp and I have to force myself to steady before I cross to him.

He's alive. He's here. Focus on that.

"Hey," he says, voice rough.

"Hey." I kneel next to the couch with my bag. "I need better light. Bathroom?"

"Yeah."

I nod, kneeling next to the couch. The bandaging is competent field work but it needs to come off.

"I need better light," I tell Roan. "Bathroom?"

"Yeah."

He stands and I see the effort it takes, how carefully he's holding the arm. Tate moves to help but Roan waves him off. "I've got it."

I follow him down the hallway to a small bathroom, flip on the overhead light. He sits on the edge of the tub and I wash my hands, pull on exam gloves from my bag.

"This is going to hurt," I tell him, kneeling with my supplies on the floor. "The bandaging stuck to the wound."

"Do what you need to do."

I start unwrapping slowly, watching his face. He doesn't flinch, doesn't make a sound, just keeps his eyes on the wall behind me.

The last layer of gauze is stuck with dried blood and I irrigate it loose with saline. He still doesn't react.

When the bandaging comes free I can see both wounds clearly. Entry front, two inches below the collarbone. Exit back, slightly lower. Clean edges, no tearing. No debris I can see.

I irrigate thoroughly, checking for anything missed. The bleeding has mostly stopped, just slow seepage. I apply antibiotic ointment and re-bandage with clean gauze, wrapping it secure but not tight.

When I finish I sit back and look at him properly. He's watching me now instead of the wall.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Real answer. Lightheaded? Nauseous? Any numbness in your fingers?"

"No. Just hurts."

"It's going to hurt for a while. You watch for infection—increased pain, redness spreading, fever, any discharge that's not clear. If that happens you go to the hospital. I don't care what you want, you go."