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“Okay. Well, yeah, you can hit my insurance then.”
“Perfect. I will get on that tomorrow. Do you have anything else you want me to look at? Even just small bumps or bruises could be hiding something more serious,” he added.
“I, ah, fell on my stomach,” I told him, sliding off the table to lift up my shirt. Dr. Price moved forward, gloved fingers probing. “Nothing?” he asked, pressing a little harder.
“No. It’s just a little tender,” I said, shrugging.
“Any trouble breathing?”
“When it happened? Yes, for a couple of minutes. But not now.”
“Okay. Again, if that changes, I want you to drop in for a visit.”
“I will,” I said, nodding.
“Let me write up that script, and then I will walk you to your car.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Nyx?”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“I will walk you to your car,” he insisted.
It was the first time I saw a sort of… edge to Dr. Price. Somehow, I could imagine his well-trained hands fisting and fighting off an attacker.
“Okay,” I agreed, feeling a small bit of anxiety slipping from my shoulders as I waited for him to fill out the script, then walk me to my car.
I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but I thought I saw a bulge of a gun in the waistband of his pants.
“You have somewhere safe to be?” he asked.
Technically, yes.
If I were willing to ask for help.
The Murphys.
The bikers.
The thing was, I wasn’t quite ready to ask for their help yet.
“Yes,” I told him. And I wasn’t lying. Necessarily.
“Okay. Get there. Lock the door,” he said, opening the door for me, then closing it when I got inside.
He even stood there at the end of his path as I pulled away.
He was still there until I couldn’t see him any longer in the rearview.
I wasn’t going home.
I didn’t necessarily think that anyone was going to come back that night, but just the idea of walking in there and seeing the mess, knowing how close things were to going even worse, yeah, it made a cold sweat break out across my body.
There was only one option left in town.
The motel.
