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He frowns at the blood on my shirt. “You’re hurt?” he asks, taking a couple of steps down, stopping when I hold up a halting hand.
I look at my clothes. Blood. Everywhere. “It’s just a graze. Get your ass back to bed.”
“What happened?”
“Uncle Brad’s lost his shit,” I mutter.
“Huh? Pearl said you’d got your shit together.”
I look at him in question.
“When she met your new girlfriend this morning.”
Got my shit together? I sigh. “Your dad’s on his way back. Be in bed when he gets home.” I flick my head, sending him on his way, and take myself to the office, pouring a large Scotch. I don’t hang around, heading straight upstairs.
Before I see her.
Doc’s waiting outside my room when I make it there. “Sorry for getting you up.” I open the door and let the old boy lead the way. He puts his bag on the chair next to the bed and starts rummaging through as I set my Scotch on the nightstand.
“It’s no bother. I’ve been feeling rather redundant lately. Wondered whether you’d send me into early retirement.”
I laugh as I unbutton my shirt and shrug it off. “Early?” The old boy should have hung up his stethoscope years ago. Did, actually, until James pulled him into our world. “You like it here, Doc?” I ask, lowering to the edge of the bed.
He smiles as he turns my arm to see the damage. “It beats wasting my days playing bridge or golf with fellow retired colleagues.”
Purpose. Doc’s a part of this fucked-up family. A vital part. But he’s not only here because he’s handy with a needle and thread. Everyone is fond of him. But he’s just that. Old.
I hiss when he wipes my wound. “It’s a bit more than a graze, my boy.” He holds a swab over it while he dips into his bag. “Breathe.”
“What?”
“I said, breathe.” He replaces the swab with a wet pad, and I nearly go through the ceiling, this sting a fucking killer.
“Fuck!”
“It needs cleaning.”
I grit my teeth, the sting now burning. “Jesus, Doc.”
“You’ll have a lovely dent,” he says, lifting the pad and checking. “The bullet’s taken a chunk of flesh with it.”
“Nice.” I take a look and grimace at the crater in my arm. “Another scar to add to the collection.”
Doc chuckles and checks my shoulder as he unwinds a length of bandage. “It’s healed well.”
“Yeah.”
“What about up here?” He indicates my head with a nod of his. “The girls have been worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sleeping?”
“On and off.”
“Did you try the pills I gave Beau?”
I scowl at his hands working around my arm, wrapping it in the bandage. “Not yet.” Neither have I tried the potion she forced on me. Dare not open it because . . . lavender.
