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“You and Talon will be lucky to take a piss alone for a month.”

“That bad?”

“Didn’t think she had it in her, but Rowan has grit.”

I crack a grin, instantly regretting it.

“Man, maybe you should have stayed in the hospital.”

“They kept Talon; they didn’t need me, too.”

“Obstinate ass.”

“Any word?”

“He’s still out. Mark and April got to the hospital about five a.m.”

This was right after we left.

James, Robbie, and the Hayes Security team had their own medical crew, who assessed us at the house. They declared Rowan fine. I disagreed, the yellow and purple bruise setting around her eye and cheek.

They transferred us to the hospital in high-tech medic vehicles.

My wounds were cleaned, sutured, and glued in transport. Staff was waiting for us at the ER entrance, whisking Talon to the Orthopedic Surgeon and Pulmonary Specialist who were ready.

They stabilized his lung, got him out of pain, then set his arm.

We only left after he passed out.

“Got to get back.” I stand, vertigo taking over and sending me forward.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He catches me by the hips, avoiding my stomach.

“Where’s Rowan?”

“In the kitchen with Harley, cooking for an army.”

“Shit, I forgot. There’s something I need to do before they all get here.”

His eyes flicker with understanding. “What can I do?”

“Someone retrieve my truck?”

“It’s outside.”

“I need my jacket.”

“You good for me to leave you?”

“Fuck you.” I shove him aside and hobble to the bathroom.

The shower helps wash away the grogginess, bringing me back to myself.

Another look in the mirror has my blood boiling.

Fucking bastards.

“Ford Whitman, what are you doing out of bed?” Rowan shrieks.

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