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She was sobbing and clinging to him and… Jesus. What was he supposed to say to any of that? He didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep and there was nothing he could do about her asshole of a stepfather. And while offering to let her move in with him was on the tip of his tongue, he couldn’t. Where was that coming from? He had a tendency to fall hard and fast, but never the way he was now.
There was one thing he could offer. It was a terrible idea, but was it worse than her not getting any medical treatment at all? Or Twyla getting kicked out of her house and being, what, homeless? He was for sure losing his job over this, maybe his teaching license, but Gunnar was out of options.
As gently as possible, he cupped her cheek and tipped her head up from where she was crying into his shirt. Her eye makeup was running, her lipstick was smudged, and her cheek was already red and swelling. God, she looked awful and she probably felt worse, and he had todosomething.
“Okay. I’ve got a friend who’s a doctor and he owes me a favor. I’m going to take you to see him. But if he says you’re in serious danger and you need to go to a hospital to have more tests, then you’re going. I’m not going to—”
Let you die.
“That’s my final offer,” he said, probably more gruffly than he should have, but the relief on Twyla’s face said he hadn’t missed the mark. At least not by too much.
She looked at him like he was the best thing that had ever happened to her and it just about killed him. But her face quickly fell.
“I can’t let you do that. You’re going to get in so much trouble. I—”
“Yep.”
And with that, he hefted her into his arms.
