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I help Dahlia get into the truck with only a couple of hissesbefore I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine. “I’m taking you to Lake Aurora.”
“Why?” she cries. “Doc’s is down the road.”
“Absolutely not.”
She huffs. “What do you have against Doc? He’s been fixing broken arms since before our time.”
“Exactly.I’m pretty sure the man worked the front lines during the last World War.”
“Since when is being experienced a crime?”
“Since said experience means still using paper charts and a head mirror.” I glare at her out of the corner of my eye.
“Not everyone knows how to use electronic medical charts.”
“I plan on not stopping until I find you someone who does. End of discussion.”
She grumbles something under her breath as I drive down the gravel driveway toward the main road. The uneven path pushes her around, which only pisses me off more.
“Can you play some music?” Her voice cuts through my noisy breathing.
“Sure.” I pull out my phone and hit shuffle on my favorite playlist.
Dahlia goes quiet as I drive us away from the house and out of Lake Wisteria. The tension in her shoulders fades away with each song. I check on her a few times during the thirty-minute drive to Lake Aurora, but she remains in the same position with her eyes closed and her head leaned against the glass.
Despite my hesitation to wake her, I park my truck in the emergency bay and open her door. “Come on.”
She raises a single sassy brow. “I’m going to need you tomove out of the way first.”
“I’d rather carry you.”
Her eyes widen. “What for?”
“You broke your arm.”
She frowns. “Funny. I didn’t know I needed one to walk.”
I resist the temptation to pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’d rather you not trip and fall, seeing as you couldn’t even stand up earlier.”
“I’m surprised you care about that.”
“Only under certain circumstances.”
Her eyes sparkle. “Like when I’m about to sue your company for damages?”
“I’d expect nothing less. Should I give my lawyer a courtesy call?”
“Sure. I heard from a good source you have a nice liability insurance policy.”
I bite back a laugh. “Stop stalling, and let’s go.”
“Wai—”
I swoop in and pick her up before she can argue her way out of this one.
She stays quiet as I walk us into the waiting room and set her down before heading to the nurses’ station. After a quick assessment, Dahlia is taken away for triage.
I spend the next twenty minutes on the phone with Dahlia’s mother, reassuring Rosa that Dahlia is safe and receiving medical attention. Rosa offers to drive over, but I recommend against it.
