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“You want to find him to kill him. I can’t let you do it. I can’t, Oliver.”

“I promise I won’t hurt him. I’ll help you find him.” His hand moved to her cheek, her forehead. “You’re burning up. We should go to the doctor. The nearest one is only a five-minute drive away.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I know, but you don’t look good. You’re a shade I’ve never seen before—somewhere between white and ash gray.”

“Can’t drive myself. And you can’t leave.”

But he was already scooping her up. She barely registered being carried outside and deposited into the passenger seat of his buddy’s vehicle.

He laid out the front seat flat for her and tried to cover her with a coat. She fought off the scratchy, heavy fabric. “Too hot. I don’t want to go.”

“Humor me. It’s a short drive.”

She kept her eyes closed as he navigated onto the main road.

Oliver was driving her.

Somehow, he’d managed to leave the house. But how? Maybe she really was dying.

It wasn’t fair to force him to be out in public. Not after everything her brother had done to him. “I can drive myself. You don’t have to do this. Go back.”

“Stubborn, even sick.”

Even though she didn’t have the strength to look at his face, the concern in his voice was clear.

Obviously, he didn’t want negative publicity. Kyle’s sister dying under his watch would only bring him more scrutiny.

The soft sway of the car soothed her into oblivion.

His vicious cursing jolted her awake.

Opening her bleary eyes, she struggled to sit up and take in her surroundings. “What is it?” They were parked next to an unassuming building in the middle of a small town. “You don’t have to go with me.”

“It’s not that. The clinic is closed for renovations. Dammit.” He looked up from the phone screen he’d been studying. “The regional hospital is open, but it’s a half hour away.”

“I’m okay, I swear. Let’s go back home. I just need sleep. Maybe some soup.”

But he was already reversing the car. “We’ll drive fast.”

“Oliver.” She tried again. “You’re overreacting.”

“You can’t even sit up. You look like some floppy stuffed animal.”

Well, that didn’t sound too nice, but the way he said it—all mushy and concerned—pleased her. In some small way, he did care about her. Granted, they barely knew each other, but he didn’t want her to die. That felt kind of nice.

Oof. The barest of minimums.

Chapter 31

The half-hour drive to the hospital had been more painful than all his surgeries combined. In the States, he’d have called Joy. As a doctor, she’d know what to do. But here, he didn’t know anyone. Couldn’t depend on anyone.

Logically, he knew Addison had caught some bug, had gotten dehydrated. Nothing serious. But logic hadn’t stopped his heart from lurching when he’d found her crumpled on the bathroom floor. He’d crouched next to her, grateful she was breathing but terrified at how hot her skin burned against his palm.

Living alone in the remote house had seemed like a good idea once. Lifting Addison’s prostrate form made him wish otherwise—wanting neighbors, crowds, doctors within shouting distance. And hospitals. So many hospitals, just a stone’s throw away.

When he’d lifted her, the woman who never needed anyone felt frighteningly frail in his arms. He had to get her to a medical professional now. Immediately.