Chapter Three
“Get off her, now,” Gunnar yelled as he ran toward the knot of kids.
He’d been headed over at a jog but started sprinting when Twyla had thrown a punch. What had she been thinking, outnumbered like that? But it’s not as though she knew he’d seen what was happening and was on his way. She hadn’t even called for help.
“Brett Tolland, Cody Mitchell, Rob Pritchard. Hey. I said knock it off. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Maybe they couldn’t hear him over their own shouts and taunts because he was practically on top of them when Kevin Egglehardt finally turned around. Kevin? Brett he wasn’t surprised by, Dylan O’Shea either, but he didn’t expect violence from Kevin. And was that Toby Jackson? Gunnar was going to get all of them expelled. Every single last fucking one of them for doing this to Twyla. Twyla who was on the ground, trying to shield her body from their blows the best she could.
Gunnar grabbed the back of Cody’s collar and pulled him back, keeping up his bellowing.
Finally the boys stopped and were staring at him while Twyla stayed curled up in a little ball, not convinced she was safe. He’d kill these boys with his bare hands if he could.
Now what to do with these bastards since wringing their necks wasn’t an option. His priority was Twyla and the school nurse was long gone—who knew how bad Twyla was hurt anyway. She needed to see a doctor, get to the ER. He’d call an ambulance, but first he’d send these boys to the office. Principal York should still be there, or at least someone would be. He’d send them off and then call the ambulance.
“You boys are going to the main office right now and don’t you dare skip out or take your sweet time. I’ll be calling there as soon as I call 911.”
Eyes wide, the six boys stood frozen and Gunnar saw red. “March, now.”
In his experience, a frosty command was far more effective raising his voice, and it was proved again by the six shitheads turning and walking toward school. As soon as he confirmed they were on their way, he knelt by Twyla who was still in the fetal position, shaking, scrapes all over her shins and arms, hair a mess, blood on her hands.
He closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. He needed to be calm, get rid of the rage he felt toward those boys because Twyla needed someone gentle, reassuring right now. He wouldn’t have her thinking he was angry with her.
“Twyla. It’s Mr. Fox. I sent the boys to the office, they’re gone. Can you look at me? I need to see how badly you’re hurt.”
Slowly, she uncurled a tiny bit, and his grip tightened on his phone. As she moved her hands from her face, he could see that she had a bloody nose, a split lip, and her eye was already swelling. Never mind that he’d seen those asshole boyskickingher. They could’ve hit her kidneys, she could have internal bleeding. Hell, she could have a concussion or broken bones.
“Mr. Fox?” she whispered as she looked up at him with those bright green eyes framed with a fringe of golden lashes that she darkened and thickened with mascara every day. His heart lurched.
He’d tried really quite hard to not think of Twyla. At all, really, but especially not as pretty, and definitely not as a wounded bird because that’s the type of woman he found himself attracted to. Vulnerable, in need of help, guidance. But Twyla couldn’t be his.
“Yeah. I’m right here and I’m going to call an ambulance. We’ll get you to the hospital so a doctor can check you out, make sure you’re okay.”
He expected her to look relieved, and if he was being honest, grateful to him for rescuing her. Which was just his idiot man brain wanting to be the hero.
Instead, Twyla’s eyes went wide, and she shook her head, started trying to get up. What the hell? Had he said something wrong? Was she afraid of him? He hated the idea more than he should, but demanding she hand him her trust and to believe in him wasn’t going to work.
“No, no. Don’t. I’m fine. See?”
Except she swayed as soon as she got to her feet. Luckily he was prepared and slid an arm around her back and under her arm to hold her up before she could fall.
“You are absolutely not fine. You can’t stand up on your own. You might need stitches. You might have internal bleeding. I’m calling 911, now. Don’t argue with me, Twyla.”
He didn’t mean for his voice to come out all growly and commanding but the idea of anything happening to her made him sick. He was taking this girl to the hospital come hell or high water.
“Mr. Fox, please don’t. I don’t have health insurance and hospital bills are crazy and my step-dad will kill me. Please.”
Pleading eyes wide, bottom lip trembling, he wanted to pick her up and hold her against him, whisper in her ear that everything was going to be okay. Because what the actual fuck? She was worried about money when she was bloodied and bruised and hurting? What kind of monster was her step-father?
“What if I drive you? Then there won’t be a charge for the ambulance.”
It was a terrible idea, violating all kinds of school policies, could cost him his job, but at the moment the only job he cared about was caring for Twyla. And if that’s the only way he could get her to a doctor, that’s what he’d do.
But she shook her head, and after all she’d been through and hadn’t cried, tears started rolling down her dirt-covered cheeks, leaving glossy tracks of pale skin visible, streaked with running mascara.
“Please, you don’t know what Wade is like. He’s already threatened to throw me out a dozen times and I don’t have any place to go and I don’t know how I’d finish school, and please, please, don’t.”
Fuck.