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“Easy,” Cash snapped. “She’s probably just scratched herself. She’s always getting hurt. It’s never serious.”
Ouch.
That hurt as much as the pain in her wrist. More. She bent over, trying to convince herself that puking over her shoes was not a good idea.
“Never serious? How the fuck do you know it’s not serious? She just screamed in pain. Get out of my way.”
Uh-oh. Hack was mad.
“Greer? Hey, can you look at me, Tater Tot?” Hack asked.
“Greer, tell this asshole you’re not really hurt. You aren’t, right? Fuck.”
She could hear how Cash was freaking out and knew she needed to say something. Breathing in deep, she stood up.
“I’m good. I’m fine.”
“Really? You’re fine?” Hack asked skeptically. “That’s why you just screamed and nearly passed out?”
“I didn’t nearly pass out,” she said. “I nearly vomited. There’s a difference.”
“Oh, but you’re fine,” Hack said with a hint of sarcasm.
“There’s nothing worse than a man who throws your words back in your face,” she pointed out.
“Well, regardless of whether you nearly passed out or vomited, there is obviously something wrong with your wrist. Are your jeans ripped? Did something happen to you?” Hack asked in a tight voice.
“Greer?” Cash asked, obviously noticing what Hack had. “Did someone hurt you?”
Well. Shit.
She had a feeling they were both going to be upset when she told them what happened.
“I’m fine. I just tripped and fell over. I must have landed funny on my wrist.” She noticed that someone was walking out of the house opposite them.
“How the fuck did you trip and fall over?” Hack asked her, moving his gaze over her.
She really wanted to throw herself into his arms and let him take care of this entire mess.
But she wasn’t his problem.
“Shit,” she muttered. “We need to go inside.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” Cash stiffened, looking around. He reached his hand back behind him. “What can you see?”
“Um, just the neighbor walking his dog,” she told him, staring at him incredulously. “Are you . . . are you reaching for a gun?”
Hack slid between her and Cash, very obviously protecting her.
From her brother!
Fuck. Could this night get any worse?
25
What was the saying?
If looks could kill . . . yeah, well, he wouldn’t just be dead, he’d be writhing on the ground in agony.
