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“Fine,” I relent, realizing the futility of arguing with her. “But only to get cleaned up.”
“Jesus Christ, just go!” She urges, her dark eyes never leaving mine. It takes me nearly a minute to realize she's waiting for me to get out of the van…and I'm not moving because I can’t bring myself to let go of Nikolai.
Jess, who has returned, puts a hand on my shoulder. “Let me take him.” Her smile is sincere. “He’s out like a light. He won’t even know you’re gone.”
Reluctantly, I hand Niko over to her as she settles carefully onto a seat with my son cradled against her chest. She’s has a point. My boy is so deeply asleep that his arms are dangling limply. I reach out to tuck one over his chest before climbing out of the vehicle.
Once inside, the harsh fluorescent lights make my head pound even harder. I have to grit my teeth as I follow Scarlett and Art to the triage area. The medical staff swarm around us, tending to Art and urging me into a wheelchair.
“I don’t need a fucking wheelchair!" I mutter then regret it as Scarlett's face drops. “I appreciate your worry. Truly.”
“And you should,” she replies, the corner of her mouth turning. “Get used to having someone watching your back,” she teases.
“Da,” I nod, knowing she struck a chord. Since Katya, it’s always just been me against the world. Me against the odds. And as they wheel me away for examination, I can't help but feel appreciation for Scarlett's pigheadedness, even as it clashes with my own.
Fuck, it’s good to feel cared for.
But I shouldn’t get used to it.
A couple of doctors and nurses gather around me, and I let them examine my wound. Scarlett's insistence lingers in my mind, reminding me that there’s more at stake now – not just for myself, but for her and Nikolai as well.
“It’s nothing too serious,” the doctor informs me after a few minutes of examination. “But we’ll need to clean your wounds and give you some stitches.”
“Thanks, doc,” I reply curtly, eager to get this over with.
As they tend to me, my thoughts drift back to Scarlett. The way she cares about me, both infuriating and comforting all at once. It’s unfamiliar territory. Ever since Katya, my life has been void of anyone looking out for me. Yet suddenly, I find myself forced to rely on someone else's judgment.
It's unsettling.
And a part of me likes it.
With my wounds treated and bandaged, I return to the waiting area, searching for her. I spot her speaking with a woman who looks vaguely familiar. It takes a moment to recognize who she is.
What the fuck?
Scarlett is talking to the bartender from the night she and I first met. The memory sends a shiver down my spine - a reminder of how much has changed since that encounter.
“Hey!” Scarlett greets me, her body suddenly going tense. “Docs happy?”
“Delighted,” I say drily, my eyes flicking between the woman and Scarlett. “What’s going on here?” Does she really think this is the time to engage in idle conversation after all we’ve just been through? I don’t care that she says Jess can handle the authorities. The cops could swoop in at any moment.
“Oh, you remember Lena? From the bar where we met?” Scarlett replies, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “We’ve just been catching up.”
“You’re Anton, ain’t ya?” the woman grins broadly. “Scarlett was just tellin’ me all about ya!”
I glance at her then back at Scarlett, who gives a small shake of her head.
“I think we should be moving out,” I say, not happy with hanging around here.
“Right,” Scarlett agrees, slanting a look at Lena.
“Scarlett, Anton,” Lena chimes in, her smile warm yet appraising. “So sorry y’all are leavin’ so quick. It was lovely runnin’ into you two. I hope to see ya again soon.”
“Likewise, Lena,” Scarlett responds, her voice tight.
“And uh…well done, hon,” Lena adds, leaning in and nudging Scarlett with an elbow. “You nabbed yourself a real looker alright!” She giggles as she runs an eye over me. I scowl back at her.
What the fuck?
