“Sir, I have other people behind you. Please take a seat or?—”
“Or what?” I hiss.
“Or nothing.” A strong hand curls around my shoulder. “Because you’re going to take a seat, and we’re going to wait while this nice clerk does their job,” Gillian commands firmly.
My brother tugs me away. As if I’m a toddler in the midst of a tantrum, I stomp along. Flinging myself into an orange plastic chair, I slump against the seat, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Text JoJo and tell her you’re here.” He plops beside me.
Within a few minutes of my text, JoJo enters the waiting room. A calm expression covers her face. She looks as if she’d come straight from the gym in pink yoga pants and a black tank top withwhite letters that read:I like Big Squats and I Cannot Lie. Loose blonde curls escape from her messy bun.
“Yoga pants.” Gillian’s awed murmur draws my attention.
“Hey,” JoJo says, a soft smile on her face.
I stand up.
And so does Gillian. “JoJo.”
Her brown eyes bounce to him, annoyance glinting in them, and then back to me. “She’s alright. The dog did a number on her right hand. Her hand is sprained. Additionally, her ring finger and the back of her hand are damaged. They’ve flushed the wounds but won’t be doing stitches to close them. They’re splinting the finger and bandaging the wounds in hopes it will close in a few days. It will take a week or so to heal. She’ll also be on some strong antibiotics to combat potential infection. They gave her a tetanus shot, and after they go over the release paperwork, she’ll be free to go.”
“She’s okay?” I ask, my chest rises and falls with ragged breath.
“Yes.”
“Can I see her?”
“Here she comes now.” Gillian squeezes my shoulder.
I dart my gaze to the ER doors, where a frowning Pen, with Cane Austen folded on her lap, is wheeled out by a laughing nurse.
“Luv—” I break away and go straight to her. “You’re okay.” I cup her face, my thumbs skating along her smooth skin.
Bright blue gauze is wrapped around her splinted right ring finger. Red scratches crisscross the top of her hand where it’s not covered by the bandage. A plastic bag, with the blazer I know she’d been wearing today, specks of blood on it, sits underneath her cane. Another bandage covers where they’d given her the shot on her upper left arm.
“I’m fine, baby.” She offers a sweet smile. “Which is why I don’t need a wheelchair.”
“Hospital policy.” The nurse chuckles.
At this point, I’ve had enough of hospital policy.“Let’s go home.”
After we get Pen’s antibiotics at the pharmacy, we head home. Gillian pulls into the drive and JoJo parks behind him. Opening the door, I fight the urge to just scoop Pen into my arms and carry her inside. When we’d gone to the pharmacy she croaked, “I can’t use my cane.” As we got out of the vehicle, the quiver of her lips forces the air from my lungs with a whoosh. Those honeyed eyes are glossy with unshed tears.
“We’ll do human guide.” I press a tender kiss to her temple.
I help her navigate her way to the front door. GB trots up to us. His butt shakes wildly, and his tongue lolls out of his mouth.
“Down, boy,” I say firmly, snapping twice for him to sit.
He lowers to his haunches. GB’s not known for his obedience, but his head tilt towards Pen telegraphs his concern.
Letting go of my bicep, Pen shuffles to the couch and sits. Within seconds, GB runs to her.
“GB! No!” I snap my fingers.
He lays his head in her lap, and she folds over him for a cuddle. “Hi, handsome. I missed you.”
He licks her face, and a sweet laugh falls out of her.
