Page 44 of Unraveled

She could see him flash an answering grin in the reflection of the dark windshield. “Tough.”

She sulked in her seat and stared off into the darkness until Carter turned into a driveway nearly twenty minutes later. She started to throw the door open but remembered Peanut on her lap at the last moment. She didn’t want him to take off and get lost in some strange neighborhood. Carter seemed to understand, because he grabbed her bag from the back, then scooped Peanut up and secured him under one arm.

Using his hip to prop open the door, he held out a hand. She stared at it for a long second, intent on refusing, before common sense kicked in. The low seats were a bitch to maneuver in, and she was grateful for the help. As soon as she was steady on her feet, he released her and closed the door, then headed to the house. She trailed behind, dragging her feet at the prospect of being stuck prisoner there. She followed him into the kitchen, where a familiar face came into view.

“John!”

The older man’s gaze bounced between Carter and her, then landed on her bandaged triceps. “What happened?”

“Just an accident,” Carter responded.

“I was shot.” She said it as clinically as possible, like it was no big deal, even though the memory still had the power to send shivers down her spine.

Carter glared at her, and she shrugged her good shoulder as John’s eyes widened with disbelief. “You what?!”

“There was a drive-by at a coffee shop downtown,” Carter said before she had the chance to speak up. “Audrey was grazed by a bullet, and she had to have stitches.”

“You said you were running late,” John accused with a withering glare. “You never said Dr. Stanton was injured.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Carter said as he strode toward the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He waved it in her direction, and she nodded. She wasn’t so stubborn that she would refuse a drink, especially since she hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink since lunch.

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled, and John’s head whipped toward her. “You must be starving. There are leftovers in the fridge. Carter, heat something up for Dr. Stanton.”

“You can call me Audrey,” she offered with a smile. “And I can get my own food, it’s fine—really.”

“No, no.” John waved her off, then gestured toward the table. “Come sit. Tell me everything while Carter gets the food ready.”

She shot a look at the man in question, who rolled his eyes as he took a pan from the fridge. Heat raced through her as he briefly met her gaze, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He was obviously used to his father’s overbearing nature. She made a mental note to ask John later how he managed Carter.

Over reheated lasagna, she and Carter told John of the incident downtown, then gradually segued into other local news, including the remains they’d found a couple weeks ago.

John gave a slow shake of his head. “What’s this world coming to?”

She nodded in commiseration. People sucked.

“Well, I’m off to bed.” John pushed back his chair and stood. “Glad you’re okay, Doctor.”

“Thanks. Sleep well.”

She felt Carter’s eyes on her as his dad disappeared down the hall, and she finally worked up the courage to face him. “Well. I guess I should get to bed, too.”

Those dark chocolate eyes stared intently into hers, studying her for several long seconds before he spoke. “How are you feeling?”

She notched up her chin. “I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can,” he soothed softly.

Her gaze narrowed on him. She hated being soothed, pacified like a toddler. “I don’t want your pity, Cross.”

He blinked once, but his expression never changed. “Have I pitied you at all?”

“No,” she snapped. “You just bulldozed your way into my house, then bullied me into doing exactly what you wanted.”

One dark eyebrow lifted. “You mean, made sure you’re safe? How awful of me.”

His words were borderline condescending, and it made her see red. “Don’t act like a martyr.”

“Don’t be petulant.”