One I desperately needed to get off of before I threw up.
Or worse.
Infusing my body with steel, I stood statue still and forced myself to focus on what my captain and the techs were discussing rather than the holes that could’ve aligned perfectlywith my head or Rhys’s. There wasn’t much info to garner since whoever had shot at us hadn’t thoughtfully signed their name and current location to the bullets.
Cap looked over my head before waving someone closer. “Your turn with the EMTs.”
“I’m fine,” I said, even though I knew I was being a stubborn dumbass. The flannel was helping every time the blood started dripping, but it was also introducing all sorts of dirt and bacteria every time I pressed it to my head.
His scowl was full of gruff reprimand. “Obviously you’re not if you heard that as a question when it was an order.”
Knowing better than to ignore an order—plus, sitting sounded glorious right then—I let the paramedics lead me to their rig. I sat on the back bumper, though, keeping my eyes out on the crowd.
I just don’t want to miss anything.
I knew it was a lie even as I thought it. I was trying to see Rhys.
He wasn’t there.
A shot of alarm went through me as I wondered if he’d been sent to the hospital.
“Where’s Mr. Walker?” I asked, squinting against the bright light the paramedic was blinding me with.
She was probably around my age, and much younger than her partner, who was riffling around in the rig. He looked to be in his forties or so.
A flush coated her cheeks as her gaze darted toward her partner and then back to me. “I think he went inside.” Her expressionand tone were both carefully neutral, but that flush still gave her away.
With his dimples and a low drawleddarlin’, I was betting blushing was a common occurrence where Rhys Walker was involved.
“Did he check out okay?” I asked.
That time, it was the man who answered as he climbed down from the back with an armful of whatever. “Better than you. We need to clean your forehead and get a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”
“We should do it on the way to the hospital,” the woman said.
“I’m not going to the hospital.”
“You need to be checked for a concussion after hitting your head.”
“I didn’t hit it.”
I hitpartof it. That’s different.
Neither looked like they believed my bullshit, but whatever.
“Did Walker check out okay?” I asked again.
“Some scrapes and tenderness.” The woman leaned back to meet my gaze. “But he also shot down any further eval.”
They got to work irrigating my forehead to clear out the boulders of brick before adding Steri-Strips to close it up.
They’d barely stepped away when I was up and feeling steadier than I had before that needed rest.
Mostly.
The woman started to list off concussion warning signs I needed to look out for, but I cut her off before she wasted more breath. With four older brothers, I knew the protocol up, down, and all around. I’d often been the one keeping watch.
It was only fair when I’d also often been the onecausingthe head injuries.
