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If I were anyone else, I’d have thought the scowl on Dallas’s face was because he was annoyed with his brother. But I knew better. He was scared. I could see the fear flashing in his eyes as he looked from me to his mom.
I was so focused on her that I hadn’t thought about the boys. Seeing her fall like that had nearly given me a heart attack. I couldn’t imagine how terrifying the scene was for them.
I sighed and looked from Miles to Dallas. “She’ll be fine, I promise.”
They looked at each other, always in sync, and nodded.
Holding Marigold close, I strode to my car. The whole way there, Crew, who’d only just arrived, followed, yammering on about talking Adam into giving us a military escort—which I was pretty sure wasn’t even a thing.
When I’d situated Marigold in the passenger seat, I pressed the button that lowered the back rest. “You okay?” I asked quietly, even though we were alone.
Not quite meeting my eyes, she nodded. “My wrist hurts…and my ego.”
I sniffled a laugh. “Would it help if I tripped on the way to the driver’s side?”
She raised a brow and finally made eye contact. “Maybe?”
With my lip pulled between my teeth, I buckled her in. I ignored her as she insisted she could do it herself, pretending I didn’t feel her tiny, pathetic swats on my hand as the buckle clicked into place.
“Like a rabid chipmunk.” I shot her a small smile.
She crossed her arms, winced, then uncrossed them again. “I bite too.”
Yeah, I think I remember that.
With a final tug on her belt, I shut the passenger door and rounded the car, making sure to trip on a nonexistent rock in an exaggerated manner on my way. I played it up, stumbling dramatically and slapping a hand to my chest, feigning relief.
When I looked up at Marigold, she was smirking, and from here, I swore a little of the light had returned to her eyes. Maybe she’d thought I was kidding about that.
But she should know me well enough to know that despite how much I loved her fire and passion, I’d do anything to see her smile. And from now on, I’d do anything to keep seeing it.
“You look ridiculous. Would you just let me do it?”
“Hush. I’m handling this just fine, thank you. I would finish a lot faster if you would be quiet.”
Liam frowned at me. To be fair, I probably did look ridiculous. Not that I had much of a choice.
My right wrist felt like it had been run over by a monster truck every time I tried to write. So I’d brought both legs under me, and I’d twisted my body to the right. Then I’d put the pen in my left hand and gotten to work filling out the medical forms and waivers. This was the way I sat when I painted the nails on my right hand, and I was hoping some kind of supernatural ambidextrous calligraphy skills would kick in. They didn’t.
We had been here for fifteen minutes, and so far, I had filled out the line for my name. And the g looked more like a nine.
“This is going to take ages regardless of how much I speak, and I’ll only talk more if you don’t give it to me.” Liam made grabby hands for the clipboard and stack of what had to be ten papers. Okay. That would require more left-handedness than I had in me.
“Here, but please don’t change my name to Pat McGroin.” I handed him the clipboard, wincing as I bumped my wrist against the armrest.
He smirked. “No promises.”
Instantly, Liam’s hand, his right one specifically—lucky bastard—was flying over the page.
I peered over his shoulder to double check his responses. It was almost comical to see this man, all bulging arms and giant hands, holding a floral clipboard with a pink pen attached by a purple chain. I almost snickered. The girls would find this hilarious.
He’d gotten my name correct, of course, and my birthday. My medical history? He may have gone a little over the top. Tonsils removed at twenty years old. He’d brought ice cream into the recovery room. Colonoscopy at twenty-four. I thought I was dying. Turned out it was astomach ulcer caused by too much spicy food. He threw out all the hot sauce in our house afterward. Cesarean section, twins, at twenty-five. I couldn’t spell cesarean, even if my life depended on it. Gah, he was annoying.
Liam lifted a brow, though he didn’t take his attention off the paper he was hunched over. “How am I doing so far?”
Amazing. And he knew it too.
I cleared my throat and pointed at the top of the paper. “I’m surprised you remembered my birthday.”
