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My older brother’s spine goes stiff in his seat. Equally alarmed, I sit up straighter in mine. Her assessment that she’s “fine” hasn’t set either of us at ease.
“Where are you?” he demands, checking the mirrors for openings to steer out of traffic and go to where she is as quickly and safely as possible.
“I’m in Archer’s car in Penny and Dime’s parking lot.”
My car? My stomach gives a violent toss. There’s only one reason Viv would be in my car.
“Is Talia okay?” I ask stiffly, my fists balled tighter than before.
“She’s fine. Her wrist is hurt, but we’re in one piece.”
“Put me on speaker,” I growl.
“Okay. You’re live.”
“You okay?”
“Yes, Kingpin. But your car—”
“I don’t give a fuck about the car. We’re on our way,” I say. Nate slides across two lanes of traffic, earning loud honks for his efforts. Unfazed, he makes an illegal U-turn. The tires wobble, but we don’t slide.
“Be careful,” Talia says. “Okay?”
“Nate’s driving. See you in five.”
“It’s slick, Nate,” Viv warns, fear outlining her voice.
“I know, honey.” He carefully navigates through both low visibility and slow-moving cars. “Hang tight.”
It takes eight minutes to get where we’re going. Despite Vivian’s and Talia’s assurances that they’re both okay, my shoulders are rigid with tension. Nate notices and assures me everything’s all right, but I notice his shoulders are strung bow-tight too.
Nice try, big brother.
In the lot, a handful of cars are parked by the restaurant’s entrance. I spot my Mercedes, parked slightly crooked, and point it out. Before Nate has put the car in park, I’m out of his car and tugging on the driver’s door of my own. The interior of the car blasts me with warmth.
I kneel down and take inventory of her, my heart thrashing in my chest as ice and snow rain down on my head. Talia is dressed in jeans and a sweater, and a brown leather jacket. Her hair is down, the ends curling and damp from the weather. She’s cradling her wrist, her smile wan.
“I should have checked the weather app,” she tells me.
“I should have checked the weather app,” Vivian insists.
“Accidents happen,” Nate says, as he opens the passenger door to kneel before Vivian. He kisses her, dropping his forehead onto hers, relief emanating off him in waves. Or maybe that’s me.
Taking Talia’s wrist tenderly in hand, I move it. Her yelp of pain sends a flood of concern into my system. I want to yell at her for leaving the safety of the townhouse at the same time I want to kick my own ass for not being there for her so I could drive. Instead, I ask, “Did you hit your head?”
“No.” Her bottom lip trembles. “Sorry about your car. I’ll pay for the repairs.”
“You won’t,” I assure her, my tone lethal. I feel both Nate’s and Vivian’s curious stares on me, but I don’t take my eyes off Talia. “We’re going to the hospital.”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Wildflower.”
“Kingpin.” Her eyebrows lift and we have a stare-down. I’m hyperaware of the bemusement on my brother’s and future sister-in-law’s faces over Talia’s shoulder. I don’t normally bring girlfriends around—if that’s what Talia is—so they haven’t seen my protective side often, if ever.
“It’s probably a sprain,” Vivian assures me. “No need for a trip to the ER, but a doctor’s appointment might be a good idea.”
Talia smirks as if saying, “See?”
“We’ll ice it at home,” I tell her, grateful when she nods her agreement.
Nate walks Viv to his Tesla and then stands at the driver’s side front tire of my Mercedes. “Looks drivable,” he tells me. “You have a hell of a beauty mark on the hubcap.”
Talia opens her mouth, I presume to say she’s sorry. I shoot daggers from my eyes in a silent warning that she’d better not apologize.
“Good to see you again.” He bends down and extends a hand. She reaches over her injured left arm with her right and clasps his palm. “We’ll follow you a while, just to be safe.”
“That’s not necessary.” I help Talia to her feet so I can walk her around to the other side of the car.
Proving he is as stubborn as I am, Nate smiles and informs me, “Well, I didn’t ask.”
