Page 65 of Weight of Guilt

His shoulders came up.

“Christian—” Wren started, desperate to explain herself.

Before she could finish, he drew back, and his fist slammed into the door.

Wren heard a crack. Then the glass came out of the frame in three pieces and shattered on the porch.

Marlowe screamed.

Christian drew his hand back and looked at it as if it belonged to someone else. Blood ran down his wrist and off his elbow.

Nora reached him and had her hand clamped above the cut in under a second. “Wren, get towels and the first-aid kit off the back of the toilet.”

Nobody moved.

“Now!” Nora yelled.

Wren darted inside, careful not to step on the broken glass. A few moments later, she came back with an armful of towels and the kit, just as directed.

Nora took a towel and pressed into his wound. “Don’t look at it. Just look at me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Christian’s voice cracked, and his eyes filled with moisture.

“I know,” Nora murmured.

“I didn’t mean⁠—”

“Christian, look at me.” Nora stared at him. “Not your wound.”

“I didn’t⁠—”

“I know. We’re going to get you taken care of.” Nora glanced at her sisters over the top of his head. “He needs stitches. This one’s not a butterfly bandage. We go to the hospital, now, and I’m not asking anybody’s opinion about it.”

Behind Wren, boots hit the gravel at a run. Nash came around the corner of the house and stopped when he took in the porch.

“I can drive,” he offered.

Christian’s head came up. “I don’t want him⁠—”

“Christian.” Nora didn’t raise her voice. “You’re going. It’s no longer a debate.”

Chapter

Thirty-Three

Nash drove Christian to the hospital, and Nora rode in the back with him, keeping pressure on his hand for the entire forty minutes. They decided to head to Sevierville, which was farther away. If they went to the one in Fog Lake, word about Christian would spread. They wanted to slow down that information chain as long as possible.

Wren followed in her car with Marlowe in the passenger seat. Neither of them said much. Marlowe kept her hands in her lap and watched the taillights ahead of them. Twice Wren opened her mouth to start something then closed it again.

At the double doors outside the emergency room, Christian stopped and turned toward them.

He didn’t say anything. He just looked at the three of them standing in the entryway. But Wren knew that look.

It was fear. Maybe apology. Definitely apprehension.

And all she wanted was to snatch him back. To admit it was a bad idea to come here.

She wanted to stick her head in the sand and pretend like life could exist as normal with this new Christian in it.