“Walk!” I shout, scanning the chaos for his signature hat.
The first responder right next to me reaches for my shoulder as he says, “Miss, you need to get back in your car.”
Maneuvering away, I avoid his touch. “Where is Walker Maddox?”
“Miss…” he tries again.
“Don’t you dare tell me to leave. I’m not leaving until I know he’s okay,” I state firmly.
He crosses his arms. “You can’t be here.”
“Listen, buddy,” I rest my hands on my hips and stare him down, even though he’s a whole head taller than me. “A SWAT team wouldn’t be able to move me, so you sure as hell aren’teither. I’m going to ask one more time before I release my inner bitch. Where the fuck is Walker Maddox?”
A hand lands on my arm. “She’s with me, Johnson.”
“Keep her on leash, Harding,” Johnson warns.
Levi drags me away, directing me toward the ambulance as we leave the stick in the mud. Behind us, I hear someone say, in a voice that suspiciously sounds like Santiago, “Talk to her like that again…”
We move too far away for me to hear the rest, and I forget all about it when I finally lay my eyes on Walker.
My stomach drops.
There’s a huge gash along his hairline and a sizable bruise on the left side of his jaw. There isn’t an inch of visible skin that isn’t scraped, cut, or bruised.
He made good on his threat. He tried to hurt Walker. He almost killed him.
When Walker spots me, his shoulders lose a bit of their tension. I’m up and in the ambulance with him, disregarding the lack of space. He opens his arms just in time to catch me.
I bury my face in his shoulder, breathing in his presence.
He’s here. He’s alive.
I repeat those simple truths, waiting for them to sink in.
Walker rubs circles on my back while his other hand holds the back of my head. “I’m okay, Baby Girl.”
“You better be,” I mutter into his shirt. When I tighten my grip, I feel him flinch as he grunts. I pull back like I was burned. “You’re not okay,” I accuse.
“He has a broken rib,” the EMT I didn’t notice before says.
“Don’t lie to me,” I scold Walker.
“I won’t if you won’t.” Walker’s insinuation lands, but I manage not to let it show.
When I keep my lips sealed, Hudson, the EMT, continues to patch up Walker, and I hover. Santiago joins Levi at the opendoors, observing the first aid. They both keep a straight face, but there’s no mistaking their relief.
Poor guy has to deal with a grumpy over-grown baby. Hudson rambles as he works, which is how I find out that he just passed his EMT exam, and his reward is Walker.
“I told you. I’m fine. I don’t need stitches,” Walker grates out from his spot on the gurney, pushing Hudson’s hands away from the gash on his forearm.
Hudson sighs, a needle and thread in his hands. “Sheriff, I’m just trying to do my job.”
“I understand that, but I’m telling you, there’s nothing wrong with me,” Walker argues.
Sitting on the thin cushion next to Walker, I scoff, then gesture to the plethora of scrapes, cuts, and bruises.
“You know my mom would kill me if I wasn’t thorough,” Hudson pleads with his bright green eyes.
