Page 47 of Protective Phlox

“Hey,” I growled at the kid, and he swallowed and took off. Snapping my fingers, Ivan squatted down beside me. “Find out who that kid’s father is. I want their address.”

“Yes, Sir,” he said, and I turned my attention back to Cutter.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

Cutter nodded. “Just don’t touch my arm,” he said softly, and my heart broke for him. I wanted to tear the world apart and protect him from all the assholes, but I knew this was only a taste of what was to come, and it hurt. The world wasn’t a nice place. There were some decent people, but it was mostly toxic. Around every corner was someone looking to stab you in the back, hurt your feelings, and kick you when you were down.

“I won’t, but we need to go to the doctor,” I said, scooping Cutter up and holding him with one arm.

“I don’t want to go, Dad,” he said, and those five words almost broke me. How the hell had Savannah done this all alone?

“I have an idea to cheer you up, Cutter,” Aaron said as we walked to the car. Cutter still hadn’t cried, but his tear-filled eyes turned to look at Aaron. “I understand you like hockey?” Cutter nodded. “Well, since you’re going to be a big boy and let the doctor look at your arm, I’m going to get us seats for the Kings playoff game tomorrow night. Would you like that?”

“Really?” His eyes bugged out, and Aaron nodded.

“Really, and you can eat as many hotdogs as you want,” Aaron said. I didn’t say anything, but he was already well on his way to, at the very least, being an amazing uncle.

“Can we, Dad?”

“Only if we get your arm all fixed up. Besides, your mom wouldn’t want you in pain, and we don’t want her to worry, do we?”

“No,” he said, his voice soft.

The guard opened the back door of my stretch SUV, and I sat Cutter inside before whispering to Aaron. “Now look who is using bribery?”

He shrugged and smiled. “It worked.”

Now, I could only hope that bribery worked on Savannah so she didn’t kill me.

Chapter

Nineteen

SAVANNAH

My mother always found ways to hurt me, and it didn’t seem to matter the occasion. At some point, I’d turned off the part of me that hurt, but I hadn’t been so successful in shutting down the anger. My life had felt like one long fight that never ended, and yet I still looked out for her and took care of her because…because she was my mother, and I didn’t believe in just walking away. But it was hard. There was so much hurt that lay between us, and each step that I took to close the gap was greeted with broken glass beneath my feet.

“I’m not staying here like I’m some decrepit old person,” my mother said.

“You just got out of open-heart surgery a few hours ago. Where do you think you’re going to go?” I crossed my arms, already frustrated. Only she could make my blood boil like this. Well, maybe her and Nathan, but at least when he did it, it came off sexy, and I was slightly less murderous.

“Well, I’ll go home, of course. I’ve been looking after myself for a long time. I don’t need a team of nurses and doctors hovering over me and telling me what to do,” she said, but it was her shaking hand that caught my eye.

“This has nothing to do with this place, the team looking after you, or even the care you’re going to receive. If you’re going to argue about your care, at least be honest about why you want out of here,” I said, crossing my arms and hating that I was already put in this position.

I was always the bad guy, the nag, the annoying daughter who poked her nose into other people’s business where it didn’t belong. Maybe I was. Maybe that was what made me a good agent, or did anyway, but the point was it didn’t make what I said wrong.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, but I am telling the truth.” Mother went to move and sucked in a gasp as the pain hit.

“No, you’re not. The only reason you’re not in extreme pain is the morphine being dripped into you. Not only that, but the doctor gave strict orders not to lift anything. You need to take it easy. Besides, you have five to six weeks of rehabilitation, and you won’t be able to go home for that either.”

“What? No, that’s not possible. I need to go home. I’m not dying in some hospital alone, although I know that’s what you’re probably hoping for,” she argued while the monitor jumped all over the place.

Taking a deep breath and pushing aside all my personal feelings, I sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed her hand. Staring into her eyes brought back so many memories that I tried to bury. The problem was that the past was never truly gone. It would always remain locked away in my brain until, out of nowhere, the pain would seep out and grip me by the throat.

AGE 13

“Where the hell do you think you’re going at this time of night?”