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Speak of the devil. As the paramedic continued to do his thing, Nancy strolled over. “Sweetie?” she asked in the same soft tone she used when soothing a frightened animal at the clinic.
Brooke shifted her devastated gaze Nancy’s way.
Crouching down to Brooke’s eyes level, Nancy ran a hand over her friend’s back. “We’re gonna take the dogs to the clinic to check them all out, okay?”
Before she had the chance to respond, the paramedic interrupted. “Brooke, I’m going to recommend you come to the hospital. Your wounds need proper cleaning and dressing, and you should really be monitored overnight for effects of smoke inhalation.”
As Brooke opened her mouth, Curly shot her a look that hopefully conveyed his opinion on the matter. She’d be going to that hospital if he had to tie her up and toss her in the bed of his truck.
Her shoulders sagged, and a sigh left her, but she didn’t argue. “Okay.” The scratchy rasp at the back of her throat caused another fit of coughing.
“We’ll keep the dogs as long as you need,” Nancy said. “I don’t want you to worry about anything but feeling better.” She shifted her attention to him. “We can take Harley and Ray for the night as well if you’re okay with that.” Brooke shouldn’t be required to make any decisions right then. Shock always made logical thinking difficult.
“Thank you, Nancy,” Curly said, sparing Brooke from having to answer. Instead, she nodded her gratitude. It’d been a long while since he’d had people in his corner. Trusted friends he could count on in a crisis. In prison, friendships shifted like the tides, and no one could ever be fully trusted. He’d seen the closest of men stab each other in the back over a carton of cigarettes—literally.
After blowing a kiss, Nancy walked back to her husband, who sat in the grass holding an oxygen mask over the pug’s mouth and nose.
Another two paramedics wheeled a stretcher into the backyard. “Ma’am, let’s help you on here so we can get you to the hospital. Sir, you’re going to have to drive yourself.”
He almost told them to fuck themselves but settled for a murderous glare. When his glower didn’t faze the paramedic, he grunted. “I’ll meet you there, okay, Brooke? I’ll be right behind the ambulance.”
Again, Brooke nodded.
Probably for the best anyway, he needed a moment of privacy to give Tyler a call. Maybe he’d ring Pulse as well since he was a trauma nurse. At the very least, he could translate whatever doctor speak the hospital was about to dish out.
He stuck to Brooke’s side until they loaded her into the ambulance. Holding one of her singed hands was out of the question, so he kept a hand on her shoulder. Touching her reminded him she was alive and kept him from spiraling into a panic.
“I’ll meet you at the hospital, babe,” he said before kissing her temple.
She nodded but didn’t respond. The vacant stare in her bloodshot eyes had a hollow pit of fear forming in his stomach. Hopefully, once he had a moment alone with her, he’d be able to remind her the dogs were safe, she was safe, and the kennel was fixable. Fuck, he’d fork over whatever cash necessary to build her one ten times as big. She’d be able to house every stray dog in Florida by the time he finished. Anything to see her smile return.
Once the paramedic slammed the door, Curly jogged to his truck.
Instead of opening the door, he let his forehead thunk against the window.
His hand shook. His heart tapped an erratic rhythm, and for fuck’s sake, his eyes fucking misted. Christ, it had been close. So damn close. He almost lost her. After spending the past week in her bed every night, he’d almost lost her in the most traumatic way possible.
Despite all his protests about not wanting an ol’ lady, losing her would have pulverized his heart into nothingness. She was everything a man like him needed in his life. Smart, driven, ambitious, sexy, sweet. Brooke was the entire package and then some.
Oh fuck, he’d done it.
He’d gone and fallen for the woman.
A throat cleared behind him. He whipped around.
David stood there with a mixture of distrust and resignation on his face. Black soot covered him from head to toe, probably rubbed off from wrangling the dogs. Curly imagined he looked just as messy.
“You need help with the dogs?” Curly asked. Ugh, please say no. All he wanted to do was get to the hospital so Brooke wouldn’t have to be alone.
“Nancy gave me these,” he said, holding out a few small squares of paper. “She said she found them in a drawer. Looks like it’s been going on for a while.”
With a frown, Curly took the papers. “What is this?”
“Read them,” David said before sighing.
