Barbara looked at Louise. “Is she cleared to leave? I told the admins that I’d take her to the ER.”
Sighing, Caitlyn wanted nothing more than to go home, take some pain medicine, and crawl into bed.
“Yeah, she’s ready.”
Thanking the nurse, she turned as one of her students ran into the clinic. “I’ve got your purse, Ms. McBride. Oh! That looks so bad! I mean, it looks like it hurts. I mean, you’re still pretty, but… oh, my…”
“Thank you, Sidney,” she mumbled.
Barbara walked her out to the teacher’s parking lot. She climbed into the small car, and as they pulled onto the street, she chanced a peek at her face in the vanity mirror. Shit! Her cheek was already bruising, and the area around her eye was turning a deep purple. It’ll fade… eventually. Tossing up thanks that her nose hadn’t taken the brunt of the hit, she flipped the visor up and leaned her head back for the short ride. She closed her eyes, finding that it helped to keep the nausea at bay.
Thirty minutes later, she sat on the uncomfortable bed in an ER bay, fatigue weighing down her limbs as the adrenaline of the afternoon’s excitement faded. Voices coming from the bay next to her caught her attention. At least eavesdropping gave her something to do besides concentrate on how much her face hurt.
“Fuckin’ nail gun—”
“I told you to watch what Rodriguez was doing—”
“Only five stitches—”
“Better than my last trip to the ER—”
The curtain flung to the side when her doctor came back into her room, and she shifted her focus to him. “So, what’s the verdict, Doc? Will I live?”
He chuckled and stepped closer. Her vision was still blurry in her good eye but her slightly jostled brain had no problem discerning the tall, blond, blue-eyed doctor with no wedding ring on his finger. Not that she was looking for Mr. Right, but she was tired of ending up with Mr. Wrongs. He patted her leg and then stood awkwardly as though he wanted to say more before moving to the computer. Yeah, fat chance he’d ask me out looking like this.
“You’ll live. No concussion but I’ll give you a prescription for pain meds. Just enough for three days, but you can come off them and use over-the-counter medicine as soon as possible. And my advice is to stay away from the guy that hit you.”
As he pulled up her chart on the computer, she shifted her gaze to the hall where he’d left the curtain open. A man had left the room next to hers and was standing just outside her bay, his gaze on her face. One look at him caused all thoughts of the handsome doctor to disappear as all the oxygen around her seemed to dissipate. This guy was tall. A T-shirt fit tight across his chest, but it was his arms that sucked her in. Muscular, yet lean, as though he didn’t just work out but actually worked. What is it about arms? Staring, she knew the answer… it was imagining those arms wrapped around her.
His hair was long and wavy, curling about his ears, and his sunglasses were shoved up on top of his head, not as a fashion statement but as a way to get them off his face when inside. His face was angular, chiseled, with lips pinched tight. Straight nose, high cheekbones.
The intensity of his stare made her feel naked, as though he could see straight into her… how her injury made her feel vulnerable. For a second, she wondered if he was going to come into her room, and while it made no sense that he would, she wanted to hold on to his attention. His gaze stayed pinned on her, and for a few seconds, she held her breath.
She’d forgotten the doctor was still in the room, tapping on the computer, until he said, “Yeah, being used as a punching bag is no fun, I’m sure.”
Considering the doc knew the circumstances of her bruised and swollen face, she wanted to roll her eyes at his poor attempt at humor but knew that maneuver would be painful. Keeping her gaze on the hall, it was obvious the man heard the doctor’s words. His eyes glittered, and his jaw tightened. She wanted to call out and explain that she’d broken up a fight between teenagers, not been abused. But then, he grimaced, and she stared, no words coming. Maybe it wasn’t a true grimace, but the edge of his lip turned up. She’d only seen that look one other time, and that was when her mother had shown her a picture of Elvis Presley, and Caitlyn had been fascinated. But before she had a chance to say anything, the man turned and walked down the hall.
A strange sense of disappointment and loss moved through her. She’d never see him again and hated the idea that he thought she just let someone abuse her. The feeling that something special had just walked away moved over her. How hard was I hit? Maybe I do have a concussion.
The doctor turned his attention back to her and offered what she supposed was a sympathetic smile. But compared to the man she’d just ogled, the doctor no longer held the same appeal. Sucking in a quick breath, she asked, “When can I get out of here?”
A nurse came around the corner, pushing a wheelchair into her room. As though anxious to escape, the doctor said, “She’ll go over your discharge papers. I hope you feel better.”
Watching him leave as though his pants were on fire, Caitlyn sighed. Just as the nurse started to hand the discharge paperwork for her to sign, a much louder noise in the hall caught her attention. For a brief second, she wondered if the mystery man was going to come back, demand that she leave whoever was abusing her, and he’d carry her off on his white horse… or black pickup truck, which she felt sure he must have.
Instead, three men walked in, two with badges clipped to their belts and one in a paramedic uniform. All dark hair like hers. All piercing blue eyes like hers, their gazes locked on her face. And all looking extremely pissed. Oh, fuck… just shoot me now. “If someone from the school called one of you, I’m suing for breach of confidentiality.”
“Shut it, Caitlyn.”
She tossed a narrow-eyed glare toward Kyle, her second-oldest brother, the one with a trigger-temper, and she winced at the movement. Feeling the heat ratchet up in the room, she tried to settle her expression and her irritation.
“Hey, sis.”
This came from Rory, the paramedic and third brother. He glanced toward the nurse and said, “Once she signs, I’ll make sure she gets what she needs.”
The nurse smiled, and Caitlyn managed a somewhat abbreviated eye roll as the older woman practically swooned at her brothers’ feet. While Rory took charge of her paperwork, Sean and Kyle moved closer. She lifted her hand as their mouths opened and got there first. “Fight in the hallway at school. I intervened. Got clocked by a punch not intended for me. Fight stopped. Boys taken in by security and admin. I was brought here. Nothing more than a black eye. All good.”
“Seriously?” Kyle bit out.
Sean shot his brother a hard stare, then smiled at Caitlyn and hefted his hip onto the bed next to her. “You sure? No concussion?”
Her shoulders slumped. “That’s it, Sean. You can check the paperwork that Rory is so carefully scrutinizing.” Now it was her turn to pin him with a stare out of her good eye. “So, what are you all doing here? Just happened to be in the neighborhood?”
“Rory was in the ER when he saw your name on the board. I’d already gotten a call from the deputy at your school, and I called Kyle in case he was closer.”
As usual, the eldest of the six McBride siblings was succinct and true to his take-charge nature. Sometimes, that was nice, and sometimes, it just chafed. “I’m surprised that Tara and Erin aren’t here as well,” she quipped, referring to her sisters.