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Dip
“You’re gonna have a helluva shiner, but it’s not broken.”
Air whooshes out of me at Grace’s assessment of Kennedy’s cheek. When I walked into Barlow’s and saw her with an ice pack to her face, I saw red. In that moment, I knew my soul got it right because the thought of her being hurt sent my heart into a freefall.
Grace had requested a doctor because she couldn’t tell without x-rays if the bone had actually snapped, but he was only in the room for a few minutes to order the imaging and IV pain medication.
“Thas good,” Kennedy slurs, the pain meds kicking in.
“The doctor wants to keep her overnight because he’s concerned about a concussion,” Grace explains, and when I glare, she holds her hand up. “But when I reminded him that we have Carnie at the clubhouse, he agreed to discharge her after a few hours.”
“Carnie?”
I brush the hair out of Kennedy’s face and smile. “Carnie is a brother. He’s also the club doctor and can monitor you.”
“‘Kay.”
Grace tips her head and studies Kennedy. “This is her, right? The girl you were all gushing about the other day when Sami and I caught you talking about men’s fantasies?”
“Thas me,” Kennedy singsongs. “Fan-fan…” She throws her arms up in annoyance. “Fancy girl,” she says, unable to pronounce fantasy.
I chuckle. “Yeah, this is her.”
“You are so screwed, you know that, right?”
“Dip says I won’t leaf,” Kennedy informs her. “Says he…”
Her eyes drift closed, the medication finally knocking her out.
Grace arches a brow. “You won’t leaf?”
I smile, remembering what I told Kennedy when she first asked for my help. “I told her leaving me would make her feel empty.”
“Damn, Dip.” Grace grins. “I didn’t know you had it in you.” She checks Kennedy’s IV one last time before moving toward the door. “I’ll be back in a bit to check on her.”
“Thanks, Grace.”
“Anything for family.”
And just like that, Kennedy is family. Fuck, I love my life and my club.
I wake Kennedy up every thirty minutes for the next two hours. She responds to my questions but falls back to sleep quickly. Ten minutes after that, Grace returns.
“How’s the patient?”
“Tired.”
“It’s the meds. Have you been waking her up regularly?”
“I know how to handle someone with a concussion, Grace.”
“I know. Wouldn’t have left you alone to do it if I thought otherwise.” She starts to remove Kennedy’s IV. “As soon as she wakes up and stays awake for longer than a few minutes, you can take her home.”
“Okay. Thanks again.”
“No problem.”
Two hours later, I’m carrying Kennedy into my cabin, against her very crabby protests, and helping her get settled in my bed.
