Page 137 of Torin

Behind me, my father lets out a hoarse laugh. “You really think this changes anything?”

I look back. Torin is still holding him down.

“When the deputies get here, what exactly are you going to tell them?” my father demands. “That a bear attacked the sheriff in his own driveway?”

Torin doesn’t answer.

“You think they’re going to take his word over mine?”

“They won’t have to,” Dr Whitmore says.

My father goes quiet.

“I saw what happened. I heard what you said to that bear. I saw you use Hannah as a shield.” His voice is strained with pain, but perfectly clear. “And I saw you shoot me.”

My father stares at him.

Dr Whitmore turns to me.

“Hannah, I’m sorry.”

My throat tightens.

“I believed him.”

The dispatcher is still talking in my ear. I answer her questions while keeping pressure on Dr Whitmore’s shoulder, then she tells me help is on the way.

Across the drive, my father starts struggling again.

“Get the fuck off me.”

Torin barely moves. “Stay down.”

“I said get off me!”

“You can keep saying it.”

Despite everything, a laugh catches in my throat.

My father glares at him.

Dr Whitmore shifts beside me and sucks in a sharp breath.

“Sorry.” I adjust my hand.

“You’re doing fine.”

Somewhere in the distance, a siren begins to wail.

My father hears it too. He stops struggling. Dr Whitmore saw everything. The deputies are coming. And Torin is sitting on his chest.

I look across the driveway at him. He’s naked, filthy, breathing hard, with bits of pine needle caught in his hair. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

But blood is running down his arm.

Oh God.

“Torin. You’ve been shot.”