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“Theodore,” she warns in her warm, motherly tone that always makes me feel like a child once again. “Alex is right, the force of the hit that caused that has probably given you a concussion.”
She gestures for me to go ahead of her and I step into her home.
Warmth surrounds me, and it’s not until the huge clock on the hallway wall catches my eye that I realise just how late it is and how much she probably doesn’t appreciate our interruption.
Looking back over my shoulder, I grimace in pain before taking in what she’s wearing.
“I’m so sorry for waking you for this,” I say, my eyes on her robe and slippers.
“Nonsense, Theo. You know I’m here whenever you boys need me. Even if you’d be better off in the hospital,” she mutters.
I take a seat on the sofa and she lowers herself down beside me, her gentle, warm fingers pressing against my head as Alex returns with her box of tricks and a bottle of vodka that he’s swiped from her liquor cabinet.
“This is going to need stitches,” she murmurs, more to herself than me.
“So stitch it. I can handle it.”
Reaching out, I gesture for the bottle in Alex’s hand, and after he’s uncapped it, he takes a swig himself and passes it over.
“Make it hurt, G. I deserve it.”
“I highly doubt that, Theodore. I’ve never met a sweeter boy in my life.”
She winks at me and I bark a laugh, regretting it instantly when pain shoots down my spine.
It doesn’t take long until my laughter is forgotten, and I’m soon gritting my teeth as she stitches me back together.
I stare across the room, keeping my mind on Emmie, on better times with her as I try to distract myself.
Gianna is right. I should probably be at the hospital and with a local anaesthetic for this, but fuck that. I’ll take the pain if it means I’m able to get back out there and find my girl.
“We’ll find her,” Alex says firmly, obviously reading my mind.
I stare at him, the same question running around my head like it has since I woke up in my car.
Who wants her so badly that they’d go to that effort to get her?
