Page 74 of Property of Rattler

Proving nothing gets past her, Bronwyn asks, “You get hit on the head?”

“Think he thought it was a baseball,” he shrugs, then winces. “He was obviously setting it up to make a home run.”

“Fuck, Flynn, do you have to keep joking?”

His eyes come to mine, and he reaches for my hand as he answers, “Only way I know how to be. Ow, what the fuck, Bron?” He’s rapidly blinking his eyes when she shines a torch into them.

“Yeah,” she pronounces. “You’ve got a concussion. You’ll need watching through the night.”

“I know what to do. Wake him every couple of hours…”

Bron shakes her head. “He’s lucid, he’s not vomiting. He’s not showing signs of wanting to sleep. Just keep your eye on himfor the first few hours, then, if he’s not showing any worrying symptoms, he can continue sleeping uninterrupted.”

“I thought…”

As if she knows what I was going to ask, she tells me, “Modern advice is that sleep’s a good healer. And signs of a brain bleed usually show up in the first three to four hours.”

Flynn is looking at me oddly. “How come you know about concussion watch?”

Without thinking, I tell him, “Once, when I was ten, Malachi tripped me and I fell down the stairs, and I knocked myself out. Grandma didn’t want to take me to the hospital, so she watched me at home. She woke me on the dot of every two hours.”

“Babe,” he squeezes the fingers of my hand he’s still holding. “Sounds like she was protecting Malachi rather than you.”

I shake my head. “No, she tried to protect me from Malachi.”

He sighs. “She was, at least, enabling his abuse. How old was he then, twenty?” At my nod, he continues, “Old enough to go to jail for deliberately hurting you.”

No, he’s wrong. My grandmother had always been on my side. Hadn’t she?If she’d acted then, would it have prevented him from becoming the monster he is now?Fuck Flynn for wanting to rewrite the only good memories I have from my childhood.

Bronwyn seems to sense the tension between us. “What Rattler needs now is rest. He’s got thegood shit,” she pauses to wink, “in his drip. Along with saline and antibiotics. That’s all I can do for now. Freak’s got Trip for the night, so Short and I will be staying here. If you need anything, or his condition worsens, call me immediately.”

“I need a fuckin’ beer,” Rattler growls.

“No.” Bronwyn says simply, but firmly. Her tone even makes me a little bit scared of her.

Rattler snorts. “Why did you change from that meek mouse who first came to the clubhouse?”

“I grew up,” she says simply. “And the club took care of the baggage that was tying me down.”

I’m left in the dark as understanding passes between her and Flynn.

“Right,” she stands up. “Now I’ve got to go check whether you put my man’s back out when he carried you up the stairs.”

“I didn’t ask him to,” Flynn grumbles. Then with a glint in his eye, adds, “Always knew those muscles were just for show.”

Bron rolls her eyes. “And I’ll check out the closet in the medical room. I think that’s where we put his crutches when he had no further use for them.”

Flynn catches her eyes. “Just make sure you check the lock works before you go into the closet.”

As I snort a laugh, Bron just stares at him. Then turns to me. “If he starts to sound confused or comes out with more nonsense than he normally does, call me.”

Raising and dipping my head, I confirm that I will. But while she’s oblivious, Flynn has good reason to be cautious about closets and locks, however ridiculous it sounds.

I wait until the door closes behind her. I’d been so worried earlier, but though he’s clearly taken a lot of punishment, Bronwyn hadn’t seemed worried any of his injuries were fatal or, while clearly painful, life changing serious. Suddenly it’s not enough for me that he’s here. I want to know more about what actually happened to him.

“Tell me what Malachi said to you. Why did he take you and not kill you?” Unexpected, a sob rises into my throat. I croak, “I thought because you were forced to marry me, he’d kill you on sight.”

Flynn sighs and relaxes back onto the pillow. I can see his eyes growing heavy and know it’s probably more to do with thepainkiller Bronwyn gave him than any serious brain injury. It was only last night when she’d used her magic to knock me out. I personally know how thegood shitworks.