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Concussions weren’t exactly rare occurrences around here. We had everything we needed to take care of one. And just about any other ailment someone could be afflicted with.
And then I could send one of the other guys out to track down all the other shit that would help her feel comfortable as she recovered: soft pajamas, fluffy blankets and socks, one of those squishy animal things, snacks, maybe more clay.
If I had it my way, she was going to be with me for at least a week.
From what she told me about her past with her ex, she’d never known what it was like to be taken care of, to be waited on.
I wanted to do that for her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Georgie
Everything hurt.
My face was throbbing, my head screaming, my knee ached, and the band across my chest and stomach from the seatbelt created a deep ache I couldn’t even put into words. My neck felt wobbly and when I tried to move it, a blinding pain shot up the back of my skull.
My whole body was in pain.
Yet all I could focus on was the medical bill for the hospital stay. And my totaled car.
I did have insurance. But what was I going to get for a piece of crap like that car? What could I get to replace it? How could I continue to pay my attorney fees while I was sorting all this out? While I wasn’t working?
The tears that silently slid down my cheeks in the backseat with Cain had nothing to do with the chase, the crash, or the pain.
It was just complete and utter fear.
Cain carefully gathered me into his arms, but no matter how gently he moved me, my body jostled and pain coursed through me strongly enough that my mind went blissfully blank of money troubles.
The conversation in the clubhouse dulled to a hush as Cain carried me through the common space and into his bedroom.
“You’re all bloody. Do you want me to get a shirt to change into? My pants won’t fit you, but you can sleep in one of my sweatshirts. It’d be a dress on you.”
“Okay,” I agreed, trying to think past the way the room was spinning and the bile rising up my throat.
Cain moved around the room, turning off the bright overhead light and putting on the small desk-style lamp on the nightstand before going into the closet to grab me a shirt.
“Going for a zip-up,” he said as he came back. “I know you’re just bruised, but it’s probably going to hurt to raise your hands for a bit. Are you emotionally attached to that shirt?”
The navy long-sleeve tee that I got buy-one-get-one fifty percent off at the thrift store?
“No.”
“I’ll cut it off so you don’t have to lift your arms.”
With that, this insanely respectful man grabbed scissors and climbed behind me so he wouldn’t see something I maybe didn’t want him to see at that moment.
The cold blade of the scissors glided against my spine as he snipped the material upward, then pushed the sleeves down and the material off.
He slid the shirt around me next, waiting for me to slide my arms in, then reaching around to grab both sides of the zipper and working it upward.
When his knuckles grazed my skin up between my breasts, a shudder worked its way through me, making Cain suck in a slow, steadying breath as he released the zipper.
Finished, he pulled me back against him, his arms going around my upper chest and low enough on my belly not to touch the bruises, just holding me tight for a moment.
“Worried I lost you.”
“I wasn’t sure I was going to make it either,” I said, turning just enough to rest the side of my face to his chest. “I thought it was just kids at first. Riding my bumper, being idiots. But then… then when they hit me the first time…” His arms tightened but he said nothing. Like he knew I just needed to get it out. “I’ve never been that scared,” I admitted. “And… and I knew I probably should have called the police. But all I could think of was calling you.”
