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"Thank you," Amalie murmurs, her voice barely audible.
I offer her a small, reassuring smile. "No need to thank me. Just glad I could help."
She meets my gaze, and for a moment, it feels like the world outside this room doesn't exist. There's an unspoken connection between us, one that neither of us can ignore.
"Who are you running from, Amalie?" I ask softly, unable to keep the question from escaping my lips.
Her eyes widen slightly, a flicker of fear passing through them before she quickly masks it. "It's... complicated," she replies cryptically.
I want to press her for more details to ensure she's safe, but before I can say anything else, Dr. Bennett returns with a nurse to escort Amalie to the X-ray room.
Alone again, I sink into one of the chairs, my mind racing with unanswered questions. Who is Amalie? What has she gotten herself into?
The minutes stretch on as I wait for Amalie to return. When she finally does, her wrist is wrapped in a bandage, and she looks exhausted but relieved.
"Everything okay?" I ask, standing from my seat.
She nods wearily. "Yeah. Just glad it's nothing serious."
"Although it's not broken, it's a pretty bad sprain, which can be worse than a fracture," Dr. Bennett says, following Amalie into the room. "Rest and anti-inflammatories will help, but Miss Vasti shouldn't drive for at least a week."
Amalie's eyes widen. "A week. But… I can't stay here that long. I have to?—"
"I'll make sure she follows your instructions to the letter, doctor," I cut across her, cupping the elbow of her uninjured arm and leading her from the room.
“How will you be paying?” Martha asks as we reach the reception desk. “Do you have insurance?”
Amalie looks torn. “I do, but–”
“I’ll take care of it, Martha,” I interrupt, pulling out my wallet.
“I can’t let you–”
“We’ll discuss it later,” I say firmly.
She presses her lips together, but her eyes spark with that banked fire again. Good, I’d rather see her fighting spirit than her fear and uncertainty.
Once we’re done with the paperwork, I walk her out of the clinic. It's now late afternoon, and the cool air is a welcome relief after the sterile confines of the medical facility.
"Let's get you settled at the motel," I say, guiding her toward the cruiser. "I’ve already called Mal, the owner, to let him know we’re coming. He’s a good friend of mine. The place is clean and safe, and you'll be comfortable there while you heal."
I was initially tempted to take her back to my place, but I wanted to observe her unnoticed for a few days. She’ll be less guarded if she doesn’t know she’s being watched. There’s a reason Mal’s place is called The Safe Haven–the guy has provided shelter and respite for those in need over the years.
Amalie turns to me as we reach the car. "I have cash. I’ll pay you back, but I couldn’t risk–” She clamps down on her words as her gaze drops to my name badge. “I can't stay here, Deputy Lawson."
I place my hands gently on her shoulders, capturing her gaze with mine. "Lucas. My name is Lucas. And you can and will stay here unless you plan to risk your life or another's by getting behind the wheel before you're recovered. Like I said earlier, I've seen the fallout of reckless and unsafe driving. My mother is currently behind bars for drunk driving. After downing a bottle of whiskey, she decided she was safe to get behind the wheel. Sadly, the young girl she killed when she ran a stop sign didn't see her coming."
Amalie's uninjured hand flies to her mouth. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry. That's awful."
"Don't be sorry for me. My mother had… has… no regard for anyone but herself. She's where she deserves to be." I shake my head. "To be clear, I’m not comparing your situation to my mother’s, but I’m concerned for you. I promise you're safe from whatever or whoever you're running from here. So do me a favor and take the time to heal."
Amalie drops her eyes and bites her lip as she considers my words. Finally, she says, "Okay. I'll stay. Hopefully, my wrist will heal enough for me to drive in less than a week, but… I appreciate your concern, Lucas."
Hearing my name on her lips sends a bolt of lust to my groin. God, what I wouldn't give to hear her murmur my name as I kiss her and scream it as I bury myself inside her.
I nod, offering her a reassuring smile. "It's the least I can do. Come on, let's get you settled in."
We drive to the motel in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. As we pull into the parking lot, I notice Amalie's shoulders tense, a subtle sign of apprehension.
