Page 111 of Weston’s Treasure

Blood.

He was bleeding.

Weston made it to me. His hands going to my face, he forced my eyes up to meet his.

“Your dad’s been transported to the hospital. He’s stable.” I didn’t let out a breath of relief. Mainly because there was no oxygen in my lungs. They’d seized, completely non-operational. “He’s gonna be fine, baby.”

“You’re hurt,” I wheezed.

“I’m fine—”

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s just—”

“You’re bleeding!” I screamed. “You’re hurt and bleeding. Why aren’t you at the hospital?”

“Baby—”

“You’re hurt, Weston. Yourehurtyourehurtyourehurt!”

All of my words jumbled together as I shouted at Weston.

His grip on my face tightened and he brought his forehead to mine.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. I’m fine. It’s a graze. Jameson will stitch me later tonight.”

“Jameson will stitch you up?”

“Not the first time,” Jameson cut in. “Few months back, gave him thirteen.”

“He did what?” I was back to shrieking.

“Stop worrying about my arm and let’s get you to your dad. He’s asking about you. But fair warning, he’s pissed as shit you were gonna give yourself up in the exchange.”

“He’s pissed?” I tried to pull back but Weston kept me where he wanted.

“Learned a few things about your dad today. His intentions might be misguided but he loves you somethin’ fierce. Would’ve rather died today than you putting yourself in harm’s way.”

“He said that?”

“Straight out, Silver. Said he wanted to die before you were hurt. Travis knew where you were, he wanted your dad to come and get you. Dale refused. He took one hell of a beating, but held out.”

“Wes—”

I didn’t get anything else out before the sob I was holding in ripped through me and Weston pulled me into his arms. And for the second time that day, my tears soaked his shirt.

* * *

“Hey, Dad,” I whispered.

“Hey there, Scout.”

I glanced around the room and focused on the monitors in an effort to regain my composure. My dad looked horrible. Even with all the blood cleaned away, his face was a mess. I’d been told he had broken ribs, his wrist was fractured, and he had a concussion.

“Dad—”

“I was a jerk,” he cut me off. “See that now.”