“He’ll be fine. Asher’s got this; I promise.” She leans into my touch as we walk inside but looks back at Cujo. I follow her gaze and see Cujo leaning up around the headrest and licking Asher’s face. Yeah, they’re going to get along fine.
The woman behind the desk at the ER gives me a disapproving look as she takes in Parker, cradling her hand, and I know what she’s thinking. I know how I look; how this looks. Leather and tattoos do not an abuser make, but they sure help people jump to nasty conclusions.
I take the offered clipboard and help Parker fill it out. Her right hand is useless, and I doubt she’ll be writing much of anything for a couple weeks.
“Insurance card?” I ask her.
She winces, not looking at me as she says, “I don’t have insurance. Just put down that I’ll pay out of pocket.”
I nod and take the forms back to the desk, clipping my credit card under the metal clip. “Everything goes on this card,” I tell the woman, ignoring the puckered expression she’s giving me. “Everything.”
I take my seat to Parker’s left, putting my arm around her until a nurse comes to call us back. I was hoping we’d see my sister by now, even though I know she’s in the pediatric wing. It’s strange to think of her working with kids. Outside of the hospital, she’s got a vocabulary that would make the rowdiest dock workers blush. How she keeps her mouth in check at work, I’ll never understand.
The nurse eyes me and asks Parker if she wants to come back alone. Parker shakes her head and leans against my side. “No, I want Lukas with me.” I can tell she doesn’t get it. They’re trying to get her alone to ask if I’m the one that hurt her, but she’s too sweet and naïve to see it.
“Ok then,” the nurse says with a tight smile. “Follow me.” She leads us to a little room and pats a folded-up hospital gown on the bed. “You’ll need to put this on. I can help you if you’d like?”
Parker scrunches an eyebrow and squints one eyebrow in confusion. “No, I’m fine. Lukas can help me.” The nurse gives us another tight-lipped smile. “The doctor will be right in to check on you.”
Parker yanks the privacy curtain shut and gives me an exasperated look as I help her take her shirt off. “Why on earth would I want her to help when I have my boyfriend right here? What a weirdo…” she mutters. I help her slip the hospital gown over her injured hand, careful not to jostle anything. I have to stop myself from shaking my head at her innocent confusion.
This is part of what I love about her. She doesn’t understand why they would be worried about me. She doesn’t see my tattoos, my long, wild hair, or motorcycle jacket and think of me as a danger. She sees me for who I am and loves me. And it’s not despite those things either. She loves me for the tattoos and scruffy exterior, just as much as the soft squishy parts of me that I don’t show most people. She loves me so much that she can’t even begin to see me from their point of view.
Not for the first time, I feel like a lucky bastard that she took my hand and trusted me when I asked her to. Stealing her away to the beach was the best decision of my life.
I open my mouth to tell her all of this. To explain why the nurses are acting the way they are. To explain why they think I’m a threat, but I’m interrupted by a knock on the door frame.
“Miss Thompson? I’m Doctor Weaver. Can I come in?”
“Um… hang on. Tying this up real quick,” she says, looking over her shoulder at me and mouthing, “That was fast.” I nod and kiss the top of her head as I finish the last bow.
“All set,” I say, pulling back the curtain. A short, stocky man cranes his neck up to look at me. He can’t be more than five and a half feet tall. Still, I have to give him props. He doesn’t back down when he notices how big I am.
I help Parker sit on the hospital bed, putting a pillow behind her back so she’s more comfortable, and sit in the chair next to her. The doctor goes over a couple details before finally looking at her hand. He’s careful as holds her wrist, getting a good look at the awkward joint and wincing at the swelling and bruising.
“How did this happen?” he asks her. Parker, unaware of how it looks, glances at me. I know the expression she’s making is because she feels bad for worrying me.
“I punched someone,” she tells him.
“I don’t see any bruises on Mr. Donovan here,” he jokes back drily.
“No. No! I didn’t hit Lukas!” she says, alarmed. “My neighbor. I hit my neighbor. He kicked his dog. Well, my dog—” She’s rambling, and it’s not helping the optics here, but more than anything I’m worried about how much she’s hurting. They haven’t offered her so much as a baby aspirin yet.
“She’s in pain. Can we please do something about that?” I ask the doctor.
His eyes tighten in my direction a little. “Obviously, we’ll take some imaging and get a handle on the extent of the damage. In the meantime, we can get Miss Thompson on some pain medication.”
The nurse from earlier reappears in the door with a clipboard.
“Mr. Donovan? I have a question about Miss Thompson’s paperwork. Could you join me at the nurses’ station for a minute?”
“Can’t it wait?” Parker asks.
“I’m afraid not. This will only take a couple minutes, then he can pop right back,” the nurse says with forced cheeriness.
Parker scrunches her eyebrows, glaring at the nurse. “Don’t you have one of those wheelie carts? Bring the paperwork here.”
I grin at the demanding tone of voice she’s using. She’s not forceful often, and I can’t help but think how insanely sexy it is. The last thing I want to do is leave her alone right now, but I know they aren’t going to let up until they’re convinced I didn’t hurt her.