Salvatore went through the questions then, asking about his breathing, heaviness in his chest, then about dizziness, double vision, covering all his bases for busted ribs and a concussion.
“I want to scan the ribs,” Salvatore said. “But I’m pretty confident they’re just bruised. Hard. I’m sure he has a concussion, but he seems stable. And you know what to look out for with that.”
“I do,” I said, nodding.
“I’m fine. Go check on Alara,” Liam demanded.
“Go on,” Salvatore encouraged. “I gotta clean his lip and decide if he needs stitches. Any idea when he had a tetanus booster?”
“Um, when he was eleven or twelve.”
“Should be fine then. Go on. He’s fine.”
Liam gave me a nod, and I moved into the hall just as Venezio was wheeling a very unhappy-looking Alara from the back room.
“Broken?” I asked as soon as I saw her.
“I don’t even want to talk about it,” she grumbled.
She sounded angry, but I could tell she was using it to cover up something a lot more raw.
“Want me to take her back to the room while you get the supplies?” I asked Venezio.
We both knew the supplies were all in the exam rooms. But he knew what I was really asking for. So he moved away from the handles and nodded.
Alone in the room, I closed the door, then reached to pull her out of the chair and put her on the table. Then I stepped in between her legs as the first whimper escaped her.
“Shh. It’s okay,” I assured her, arms going around her carefully, not sure how hurt she was. “I’m right here.”
“He wouldn’t run,” she cried against my chest. “I told him to run.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, running a hand down her hair. “Well, he’s a Costa.”
“Stupid, stubborn Costa.”
“That’s us,” I agreed. “I know you tried to protect him,” I assured her, pulling her tighter as a cry escaped her. “It’s not your fault he decided it was his job to try to protect you.”
“When… when he grabbed his head and slammed…” She broke off on a whimper.
I hated how the vision crossed my mind so vividly, making my stomach drop out.
“I’m sure he felt the same way seeing you get choked. This was a sucky night, all around.”
“Chris… he shot someone.”
“He did,” I confirmed. “He did what he had to do. What you or I would both have done in the same situation.”
“He’s just a kid.”
“I think we both know he’s barely that anymore.”
“How is he?”
“Concussion. Nasty bite on the inside of his lip. Some bruised ribs. He’s gonna be alright. Probably will be happy to show off to the kids at school after all this.”
“Boys,” she snorted against my chest.
“Yeah, we’re a weird breed. You okay? Really.”
