Page 212 of What We Become

“Did he do that to you?”

She nods. “Not here. Okay?”

I look at Stephen.

“Knox.” Her fingers tighten in my jacket. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you start now, you won’t stop.”

She knows me too well. The worst part is she’s right.

“And not to hurt your ego, sweetheart,” Gloria says, “but you might need a minute before any acts of murder. Sit down before you fall down.”

“I’m fine.”

My left leg picks that exact moment to nearly fold.

Fury’s hands fly to my sides, and Eli catches my arm.

“I said I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding through your pants,” Fury says.

I look down. Huh. So I am.

“Sit,” Gloria repeats.

I let them back me toward a hay bale. Then my leg makes the decision for me. Pain blasts white through my skull as I drop onto it hard. When my vision clears, Fury is kneeling in front of me.

“Let me take care of you a minute, okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, because there’s no version of reality where I stop her from touching me. “Just a minute.”

Her touch is careful in a way that makes my chest ache worse than the leg. She eases the torn fabric away from my knee and shin, her brows pulling tight at the swelling.

“Fracture?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?” Her voice goes flat. “That’s your medical opinion?”

“My medical opinion is it hurts like a motherfucker.”

“That’s more useful.”

Even scraped raw and shaking, she’s still got enough dry bite left to make me want to drag her into my lap and keep her there forever. Instead I grit my teeth while she checks my ribs. The second her palm brushes my left side, I hiss.

“There,” she says softly.

“Yeah.”

“Any trouble breathing?”

“Only when you ask annoying questions.”

Her mouth tightens like she wants to smile and refuses to let herself.