“They’ve been notified,” Rory said, turning from the nurse with paperwork in hand.
Swallowing, she leveled them with an incendiary glare that she hoped worked, but considering none of them disappeared in a poof of fire, she imagined that a one-eyed glare didn’t have the same potency. “If any one of you have called Mom, I’ll—”
Seeing their guilty faces, she cried, “Come on, guys. You know Mom’s gonna freak! And there’s no way she won’t tell Dad.”
“Yeah, well, they care. We all do. Your job is to teach, not get punched. I want to know where the other teachers were,” Sean said.
“And security,” Kyle added. “And why aren’t you going to press charges?”
She was going to kill the school deputy. “Because, as you said, my job is to teach. It was two boys pissed at each other, probably over a girl. Neither are bad kids, and while I don’t condone fighting to solve a problem, they weren’t trying to hit me. And the one who did immediately apologized and, I’m sure, feels terrible. So, lesson learned to him without me needing to drag him to juvie court with an assault charge. It’s over.”
“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” Rory tossed out with a wink, giving her a hand into the wheelchair.
As they rolled her down the hall, she glanced around to see if the tall, gorgeous Mr. Gruffy was still around. Not seeing him, she couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. Noting her brothers staring, she quickly said, “My car is still at the school—”
“I’ll get it,” Kyle said. “I’ll leave it at your place.”
She dug out her keys and handed them to him as he kissed her forehead. “Thanks, bro. Give Kimberly my love.” He offered a chin lift before turning to walk out the door.
Rory kissed her next. “Gotta get back to work.”
Looking up, she offered a wan smile. “Tell Sandy I’ll call her tomorrow. And thanks for checking on me.”
Left alone with Sean, she climbed into his SUV. She started to close her eyes when he said, “Mom wants you to come to the house so she can see for herself that you’re okay.”
“Oh, Christ, Sean. No. No way, no how.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she threw up her hand and pleaded, “I need some pain meds and my bed. That’s it. Mom can come over tomorrow. Please…”
He twisted around to stare, then slowly nodded. “You got it. But I can only hold her and Dad off one day. Then they’ll want to make sure you’re really okay.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence, but when he parked outside her house, he turned and said, “I know you’re pissed we all showed, but you’re our little sister. We have to look out for you.”
Fatigue, frustration, and pain all warred within, bringing tears close to the surface. Swallowing hard as she nodded, she reached out and placed her hand over his. “I know, and I’m grateful. Honestly, I am. So many of the kids I teach don’t have anyone at home who gives a shit, so I know I’m lucky.”
He smiled and assisted her down from his SUV, walking her to the door of the large Victorian house. Kissing her forehead, he said goodbye, and she gratefully went inside. Bypassing her landlady’s apartment door, she climbed up the stairs and into her apartment.
Usually, she loved stepping into her apartment, having created a space that was unique and beautiful, reveling in the fact that it was all hers. Now, ignoring everything around her, she headed straight into her bathroom and swallowed a pain pill. Stripping, she pulled on her camisole and sleep shorts before running a brush through her hair. Exhaustion pulled but she lifted her gaze to stare at her reflection in the mirror. Now seeing what her brothers saw, she was even more glad she didn’t allow her parents to see her like this. Her left eye was almost shut, the purple all around giving her a decidedly prize-fighter-who-lost appearance. One minute I’m teaching American Literature to a bunch of juniors and the next minute I’m on my ass. I wonder if there’s a life lesson in that scenario?
Refusing to think more about her day, she flipped off the light and climbed into bed. Pulling the covers up to her ear, she closed her eyes, but for a long time, the day’s events continued to play on a loop in her mind. Angry shouts. The crowd. The hit. The pain. And the gorgeous man in the ER who looked disgusted when his gaze landed on her. I have the worst luck.
With that thought, she finally fell asleep, but strange dreams plagued her rest. Dreams of running through the dark halls of her school, the fear of an unknown someone racing behind her. Looking up, she spied a tall man with blue eyes at the end of the hall, light streaming in behind him. His hand extended toward her, beckoning. She reached out and… awoke, covered in sweat and shaking. Sitting up in bed, she blew out a long breath. Damn, pain-pill-induced freaky dreams. God, I just want to sleep.
2
“Hey, Griff! Where do you want this?”
Griffin Capella shook his head as he stood in the bed of the large pickup truck. One to always have his mind on work, he couldn’t get the woman from the ER yesterday out of his mind. Unable to see much about her other than the horrifically bruising face, his thoughts had slammed back to years before when he’d felt so helpless, when his dad would come home from the bar, angry about something, anything.
“Griff!”
He jerked and glanced down at Nate, one of his workers. “Set it to the side, next to the house. We won’t be here for another week, but the owner said we can go ahead and put the lumber at the back.”
Nate and Andrew dropped the load of wood next to the brick house, the clatter resounding sharply in the early morning peace. Griffin pulled out his checklist and pencil, marking off what they were delivering. He’d never gotten used to using his phone or tablet for such a menial and yet necessary task. Pencil and paper always felt more organic. Sort of like the designs he created.
He’d always kept meticulous notes for his business, making sure to put them into spreadsheets when he got home each night so that Bette, his cousin and office manager, wouldn’t lose her shit trying to decipher his handwriting. She could be a pain in his ass, just like when they were kids, but it was her eye for details that let him know about the thefts at a few of his worksites. And those thefts were more of a pain in his ass than she could ever be.
His true passion was restoring the intricate woodwork on the older homes in Hope City, specifically arches, lattices, decorative eaves, cornices, stairways, and porch spindles. While that kept him busy, to provide a steadier income, his contracting business handled numerous renovations on the older homes. Recently, a few thefts of building materials and tools from homes he was restoring had him on edge. He had talked to the owner of this home about the work she wanted to be completed, and because there wasn’t space inside, he’d agreed to leave the wood on the outside but behind a locked fence. God, let it stay safe! His profit margin wasn’t very high, and if he had to take another hit on replacing stolen materials, he’d have to raise his prices to include a large storage facility.
Wham! Another stack of wood landed on the pile. He glanced up then double-checked his list to make sure he’d brought everything he needed.
“What the hell is all that noise?”