That had been sent over an hour ago. He had texted six more times after that. Stalker much? But in truth, he had every right to be worried. I was known to take off, disregard Brock’s rules. Along with over a dozen messages from the other guys and Mads, there were also numerous missed calls, including three from Ainsley’s house phone.
Had she heard?
I sent a quick text to Brock, assuming he would let Mads and the others know. I’d call Ainsley later tonight when I got home.
Home.
I was going home.
The thought filled me a contentment I hadn’t felt in a long time.
I’m at the hospital with my dad.
I should have known that a quick simple text wouldn’t be enough for Brock. My phone vibrated seconds after I sent the message.What hospital?I could almost feel the sudden uptick in emotion through the phone. Concerned? Maybe. But also pissed off.
I was guessing more pissed off.
Uh, no way would I tell him what hospital. He’d be here in two seconds, most likely followed by the rest of the Elite. The hospital didn’t need the distraction, because the four of them sauntering down the halls would incite a riot.I’m leaving after I give my statement to the police. They are discharging me.
We need to talk.
A part of me wanted to see him…but for all dangerous reasons. I wanted to fall against him and have his strong arms hold me. I wanted him to tell me that he’d take care of Ava. That she would cut out the insane, jealous girlfriend act and leave me alone. I wanted him to make impossible promises that for a short time, I’d believe.
Those all screamed boyfriend.Brock is not my boyfriend,I reminded myself. Before I told him to get his fine ass to the hospital, I sent back a one-word reply. Short and to the point.Later.
Brock would not be satisfied until he got answers.Tell me you’re okay.
I’ll live.Much to Ava’s disappointment.
Firefly.
Damn him. Reading that stupid nickname caused a knot of emotions to rise into my throat, where it got clogged. I could hear him growl my name in my head. It was almost like he was in the room with me. That one word spoke volumes.
I sighed and put the phone down, lacking the energy to keep texting. Whether he liked it or not, Brock would have to wait.
* * *
My body screamed at every bump and curve in the road during the car ride home. I didn’t say much, just closed my eyes and listened to the low rock music coming out of the speakers. After speaking with the police and recounting what I could remember and who was involved, I was exhausted.
Dad helped me get from the car to inside the house. It sucked having to rely on someone for the simplest of tasks, but my injuries could have been much worse.
Looking at my bloodstained shirt, you would have thought I died. It was amazing how much blood a few cuts, even deep ones, could produce.
“Bedroom or couch?” Dad asked as he paused in the entryway, waiting for me to give him a direction.
I took a long second to soak in the familiarity of being home, the scent more manly than before but still somehow the same. The small ranch had only two bedrooms, but for the three of us, it had been enough.
At least, it had been enough for Dad and me.
Nothing was ever enough for Angie.
I shook off the thought, not wanting to think about her. “Actually, I want to take a shower.” I had blood crusted in places that blood shouldn’t be.
He dropped his car keys into the little basket on the table by the door. “Good idea.”
“Then couch,” I added. “Do you have to go back to work?” I didn’t want to be alone, and I was afraid that feeling might linger with me for a while.
Damn Ava.