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I find her in her tiny office, bent over medical files she’s updating on the computer. “Anything I can help you with? Anything I should know about?”
She shakes her head, pushing up her glasses with her index finger. “Nope.”
I frown. Sophie isn’t anopekind of woman. If anything, she answers with more words than any situation requires. “You sure?”
“Positive,” she says and pushes away from her desk, her brown eyes darting around the room as if she’s looking for a way to escape. “Absolutely positive.”
“Sophie,” I growl. “What the fuck is going on? Are you quitting?”
Her eyes go wide. “Me? Quit? Never.”
I cross my arms, annoyed at whatever the fuck this is. “Then tell me what’s going on. Now.”
Her gaze darts around again before she lets out a long exhale. “Let’s talk in your office.”
Reluctantly, I follow her to my office and sit at my desk, hands folded as I wait for her to spill her secrets. “Sophie, I’m not having the best day.”
She nods, swallowing hard. “This morning, I went out to search for Sherry. She missed her appointment, and I’m worried she’s using again.”
It was a common worry among many of our patients, but Sherry is young, pregnant, and addicted, so I understand her concern. “You didn’t find her?”
“No,” she sighs. She removes her glasses and tosses them on my desk. “I found a woman stumbling through the streets in bloody, ripped clothing. I brought her here, and she’s doing better. Healing emotionally and physically.”
I lean forward, resting my chin in my hands. “What aren’t you telling me, Sophie?”
She flashes a smile, shaking her head. “You’re too astute,” she accuses, pushing away from the chair. “Follow me. Please.”
I stand and follow her on wooden legs, sucking in a deep breath as I prepare to take in another of the lost patients we care for before sending them back out into the shit storm that brought them to us.
Sophie pushes open the door to an exam room we never use for anything other than storage and steps inside, revealing a small figure sleeping on the bed sandwiched between boxes and defunct testing equipment. “I know I should have told you, but she made me promise I wouldn’t.”
Maggie. She looks so fucking frail and small that I just want to scoop her in my arms and let her know she’s safe and protected. But I don’t do that. I just stare at her curled up on the bed, her brows dipped in worry, even in a deep sleep. I turn to Sophie, confusion swimming in my eyes. How the hell did Maggie get here, and why didn’t she want me to know she was at my clinic?
Sophie smiles as if she just gets it, gripping my shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “Good luck,” she whispers, leaving me alone to examine Maggie carefully.
I take a seat on a box beside the bed, grabbing Maggie’s hand in mine, holding it close because I’m so goddamn happy to see her alive and safe. Even in sleep she looks scared, and I grip her hand tighter, holding it against my rapidly beating heart.Where in the fuck did I go wrong with her?
Why would she rather face the danger in the world on her own than with me at her side? She has bruises all over her face and a cut on her forehead, telling me she encountered some kind of trouble since she left the protection of the MC.What happened to you?
I clutch her hand and pull it to my lips. My heart pounds against my chest as anxiety takes hold of me. What had she gone through last night, and why didn’t she call me for help?
Because she doesn’t want some scarred biker, who refuses to work on himself.
My grip loosens because I know the truth, and it has nothing to do with my PTSD or anything else. I can’t force Maggie to stay with me if she doesn’t want to. If she’s going to stay, it has to be her choice.
Not mine.
Her hand squeezes mine, and I look up at her beautiful, scarred face. “Nova?”
“Maggie,” I growl. “It’s so fucking good to see you.”
Maybe it’s not too late after all.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
Maggie
I open my eyes to the most beautiful sight in the whole fucking world.
