Page 25 of The Stalker Snafu

“Stiches, then?”

“I’m not trained in facial sutures. I picked up some surgical glue since I was at the clinic, but…” Julian trailed off, shaking his head. “Kincaid, we should really take her in.”

“There’s no need. You have the glue, and you’ve done this before.”

“He has?” I asked in alarm, wondering what exactly “this” was.

“… At the clinic,” Noah clarified. “He’s done this before at the vet clinic.”

“Which is where we should be now,” Julian muttered under his breath. “Or even better—a hospital built for humans where things are nice and sanitary. Care to explain why we aren’t?”

Noah didn’t make any move to answer, so Julian turned his hard gaze on me.

I caved immediately.

“They’ll call my parents,” I muttered, blinking hard against the steady throb of pain. “And I’d rather they… not know. I don’t want to worry them.”

Fear coursed through my veins. I hated lying to Noah about my parents worrying when that was the last thing they’d do. But if they got a call saying I was being rushed to the hospital, they’d pull me back to Kansas before I’d even finished seeing a doctor. The medical bill would be another charge my mother would throw in my face about how much I cost them over something as trivial as my health. She’d claim it was too dangerous to be this far away from home—where I lived in a bubble with my piano and two dictators.

Besides, I was still conscious. That had to be a good sign, right?

“No hospitals,” I repeated firmly, shivering at the thought before turning to Noah. “Is Henrietta okay?”

“She’s fine,” he answered distractedly, too busy leaning in to get a better look at my forehead.

“Who’s Henrietta?” Julian asked from behind Noah.

A moment passed before he answered. “Her pen.”

“… What?”

“Don’t ask.” Noah rubbed a hand down the front of his chest before looking down in surprise—as if he hadn’t noticed until now that he’d whipped off his shirt like a seasoned stripper earlier. “Even with context, it makes little sense.”

I frowned at his attitude, then grimaced when the movement sent a sharp jab of pain through my head. “What do you have against Henrietta, Noah? You’re the one who bought her.”

“All right, all right.” Julian pulled Noah back and tugged the car door open wider. Worry lines marred his face. “Let’s get my patient inside before she starts losing more blood from getting worked up.”

I shut my mouth and looked down at Noah’s red dress shirt and the crumpled wad of red napkins.

That was… blood?

Oh my.

The cement driveway quickly swapped places with the sky as I toppled like a dead weight out of Noah’s car.

Julian’s bright blue eyes blinked down at me when I woke up. I was lying on a familiar bed, but it took a moment to recognize the beige walls of Noah’s room.

“You’re all right,” Julian said soothingly as he pressed something soft to my forehead. The pain hit me like a tidal wave, and I struggled to catch my breath. “Breathe, Emma. Deep breath in through your nose, then a slow breath out through your mouth. Copy me.”

I did my best to match his deliberate breaths, and after the fourth try the panic tightening my throat began to ease. Julian kept fussing with something on my forehead. Once my breathing was under control, he backed off and met my eyes with warm blue ones.

“Tried to outrun a train, I take it?” He attempted a smile as he admired his handiwork.

“Something like that.” I hissed through my teeth and curled away from him before I realized how much it hurt to move.

“Did you bite your tongue when he knocked you down?” Julian asked. “Was there any blood in your mouth?”

I shook my head, immediately regretting it as everything spun and a moan scraped out of my throat. “No. I don’t think so.”