AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Bullshit. You know he’ll help you.Before I really knew what I was doing, I stood uncertainly from my hiding place and dragged myself back up the hill where the road curved to the left before fanning out into the cul-de-sac. I stopped behind a wisteria tree at the spot where the circle of asphalt funneled down to the road. From behind the tree, I watched Amos’ gray car stop in front of Archer’s house.
He still wore his scrubs, and whether he realized it or not, he still had his green surgical mask tied around his neck. He poked the intercom button on the estate’s gate, and his hands rested on his hips as he appeared to speak with Meg or Archer. As he talked, he leaned to the side to peer through the gate. I watched him pause, and then his head rotated slowly down the hill like he was tracking something with his eyes.
My paint footprints. God, he was clever. He followed them to my phone, which he bent to pick up and examine. His head jerked up, and even from a distance I saw the worry in his expression. “June?” he called.
I screwed my eyes shut and leaned my forehead against the rough bark. There were too many emotions eddying around my head and heart for me to pinpoint why I was standing there, hesitating, instead of going straight to him.
The sound of crunching sneakers on loose asphalt sounded behind me, and I looked over my shoulder. A fit couple in athletic wear marched fast up the hill, and the girl’s long, blond ponytail swayed as she looked up at the handsome man next to her. They talked in low voices, and the man laughed.
I could ask them for help. I could ask to borrow a phone and call a ride or Katherine. Or my parents. Yes, I could call my parents, but then they’d be worried. They had a lot going on in their lives right now, and if they saw me like this…
“June!” Amos called again, his voice more panicked.
I turned away from him with my back to the tree trunk and closed my eyes again. I knew why I was hesitating. If I went to Amos now, then I’d have to admit what I feared the most.
I want him. I want to be with him, and I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t have him.If I admitted it, if I faced it, then I opened myself to the possibility of more pain. I faced the possibility that Amos wasn’t looking for what I was. I couldn’t play it casual anymore. I couldn’t be with him and pretend that it wasn’t the safest, most ambrosial joy I’d ever known. I wanted him to be angry that I’d gone to Archer’s house against his advice. I wanted him to care for me as much as I cared for him, but what if he didn’t? What if I reached for him, tumbled headlong into the abyss of feelings for him, and he just let the darkness swallow me?
The couple to my left were nearly parallel with me now. They were going to see me any second, and I had to choose.
“June!” Amos shouted louder. It was the desperation in his voice that made my decision for me.
I opened my eyes and turned around the tree so I could stumble out of its shade and into the cul-de-sac. “I’m here,” I said.
It wasn’t loud, but he heard it like I’d shouted. His head swiveled to me, and with his gaze locked on me, he closed the space like I’d hooked a winch to his body. “June,” he said again, softer, and his arms reached for me. Sharp as always, Amos assessed my body language accurately, and he hovered his hand under my injured arm as he clasped my left arm in a warm grip. “What happened?”
My features crumpled. “I don’t know,” I whispered honestly.
“Okay,” he said softly. His baritone voice filled me with soothing vibrations, and I leaned into him as tears fell from my lashes to the tight, dried paint on my cheeks. Amos circled my left side so he could pull me against him, still taking care not to touch my right arm. “I’m here, baby,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
“I really messed up,” I mumbled, pressing my face to his chest and giving in to the feeling that I wanted to morph my body to his like modeling clay. He might not feel the same, but in this moment, in this space, he was everything I needed and so much more. And he held me so tight to his chest, I wanted to lock myself in that embrace and never leave. He was offering the strength I lacked. However long that lasted, I would take it.
“I’ll fix it,” he assured me. I choked back a laugh. What a promise. He didn’t even know what had happened. “First,” he continued, “let’s get you in the car. Can you walk?”
I nodded. He supported me halfway across the cul-de-sac as I walked on two throbbing legs before he bent down, gently hooked an arm under my legs, and carried me the rest of the way. I let out a cry as it jostled my shoulder, but he crossed the distance so swiftly, I soon found myself in the passenger side of the car. The smell of leather, lemons, and Amos swirled around me, and I leaned my head against the headrest gratefully.
Amos bent forward, unnervingly silent about the whole situation so far, and his hands skillfully palpated my arm starting at my wrist, pausing at my elbow as I sucked in a breath, and then moving to my shoulder. He barely touched it, and I wanted to scream. “Where else are you hurt?” he asked.
Reluctantly, I lifted the hem of my filthy skirt to reveal the gash on my right leg. He bent over and barely glanced at it before unlatching the glove compartment and fishing out the small, red first aid kit he kept in there. I felt a twinge of amusement over the fact that he had used that same first aid kit on the same leg not even a week before. Looking at the shape of the gash, it suddenly made some sense. The “L” shape was because I’d already had a vertical wound in the process of healing.
He pressed a square of non-adherent gauze to the cut, and I sucked in a harsh breath through my teeth. Ignoring my sound of protest, he secured the gauze pad with medical tape. “Anywhere else?” he asked. I shook my head, but he cocked his head, leaning further into the car to look at my left shin. He pressed around it and over the swollen bruise until I let out another yelp. “Okay,” he sighed, straightening.
It was only then that I read the eddy of emotions in his eyes. Storm clouds before an F5 tornado had nothing on Amos Brady’s expression. It was clear to me that he wanted to keep his expression neutral, but he hadn’t succeeded. “Anywhere else?” he asked again.
“N—”
“Think, June,” he interrupted me. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”
I frowned. “How did you know I fell?” He leaned his hand against the doorframe, waiting. I put my left hand to my head where it throbbed dully. “I guess a little.”
He bent over me again, this time bringing his hands to feel around my head from the base of my skull and up. I closed my eyes. His fingers were so strong and sure of what they were doing. I couldn’t help but enjoy it. I winced a little as he felt around my right temple, but he kept going. “Did it hurt right away? Did you lose consciousness?”
Reluctantly, I admitted, “I did see black.”
“Were you confused? Nauseated?”
“A bit.” I knew where this was going. He would want me to go to the ER again, but I wasn’t going this time. Suddenly, I felt Archer’s hands on my legs, on my breasts, going down my belly…
I pulled away stiffly. Amos froze in surprise, and then lowered his hands. “You might have a concussion.”
