Out of Turn (6 page)

Blane was a stiff wall of silence behind me as I walked toward the checkout. I probably wouldn’t have given Luke my number if Blane hadn’t been there. I don’t usually get picked up in the grocery store, but it had been too good of an opportunity to resist.

“Your brother?” Blane asked, his voice hard with anger.

I stopped and turned. Blane’s eyes were flashing gray fire. “Telling him you’re my ex probably wouldn’t have gone over real well,” I said.

Blane grabbed my arm and pulled me close. “He was staring at your breasts,” he hissed. “Which are barely covered in that getup.”

“Can you blame him?” I retorted. “If I remember right, you always enjoyed them.” I yanked my arm out of his grasp. “And can we stop pretending that you’re buying all this food
for Mona? I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to happen.”

“You can’t live off ramen noodles and lettuce.”

I was furious now, and it wasn’t just about the groceries. My temper seemed to be on a hair trigger. “You can’t shove your way back into my life, Blane, not after everything that’s happened. And you certainly can’t control me the way you used to.” I snatched my purse from the cart. “I’m out of here.”

“I have your keys,” he said to my back.

His high-handedness had me seeing red. “Then I’ll fucking walk,” I ground out.

Tears stung my eyes as I hurried through the automatic doors. The sun was now high in the sky and stepping into the heat and humidity felt like hitting a brick wall. I slid my sunglasses back on and started trekking across the parking lot.

I couldn’t handle this, didn’t know how to act or what to say with Blane. My anger was too close to the surface, forgiveness too far away, for me to even pretend a level of normalcy with him. Our relationship had too much history, too much baggage, for us to carry on with any kind of pretend friendship.

I had to get him out of my life, and there was only one way to do that.

Getting my phone out of my purse, I dialed a number from memory, praying he’d pick up.

To my disappointment, the call went to voice mail.

“Kade, it’s me. Kathleen. Listen, I know we haven’t talked in a while,” which was an understatement, “but I was hoping, if you’re not too busy, that you might come back.
Just for a while. I…” My voice faltered. “I could really use some help, and I don’t know who else to ask…” The absurdity of what I was asking suddenly struck me. Was I really going to ask Kade to actively work against his brother? “You know what,” I said, suddenly changing my mind, “forget I called, okay? It’s nothing. I’m fine.…”

Someone yelling my name distracted me and I turned to see Blane running flat out my way.

“Look out!” he yelled.

I turned in confusion and saw a car barreling toward me. I froze in horror, my mind moving in slow motion. Adrenaline turned my insides cold and made my muscles move. I dove to the side but not fast enough. The corner of the car hit me and I screamed as my body glanced off the metal before hitting the burning asphalt. My phone clattered from my hand and I was aware of a burning pain in my side. I heard gunshots, then nothing.

Sirens were screaming when I pried open my eyes. I was lying on my back on the hot asphalt, the sun a blazing glare. My first thought was that I must have dropped my sunglasses. My second was that I’d broken my non-injury streak the moment Blane had set foot back in my life.

That seemed important.

Blane spoke and I realized he was kneeling at my side.

“Don’t move, Kat.”

Yeah, wasn’t planning on it. My side hurt like hell, especially when I took a breath. I could tell I’d gotten scraped up
from the concrete on my arm and elbow, though that pain paled in comparison.

“What happened?” I managed to croak.

“There was a car,” Blane said. “It hit you.”

Ah yes. Now I remembered. I’d been angry and left the store. In retrospect, probably not the smartest thing to do given what Blane had told me about Gage. My only defense was that I’d been so upset at Blane that I hadn’t been thinking clearly.

The sirens were coming closer and I assumed they were for me. We’d attracted a small crowd, which had to back up when the EMTs got there. Blane stepped out of my line of sight as the technicians examined me. Once they had asked me a hundred questions (“Ma’am, can you wiggle your toes?”) and realized I hadn’t broken something vital, like my spine, they placed me on a gurney and started to put me in the ambulance.

This was the first time I’d been in an ambulance since I’d had to call one when my mother was so ill in the last stages of cancer. I’d insisted on riding in the back with her, and I still remember the sympathy on the EMT’s face as he watched me hold my mom’s hand. She’d wanted to die at home but had ended up passing in the back of that ambulance before we even reached the hospital.

That memory assaulted me now and irrational fear struck.

“Wait,” I gasped, struggling to sit up against the safety restraints they’d placed across the gurney.
“No, wait… let me out!”

“Ma’am, you need to lie still,” one of the EMTs said, gently but firmly pushing me back down.

“No!” My voice was shrill now as they rolled me inside the ambulance. Medical equipment surrounded me, its silence foreboding. I couldn’t see outside. I couldn’t see Blane.

Panic hit and I started struggling in earnest despite the pain in my side, tugging fruitlessly at the belts that kept me prisoner. I couldn’t breathe properly. Each breath was a stabbing pain.

The EMT grabbed my wrists. “You’re going to be all right,” he said. “Just calm down. We’ll get you to the hospital.”

“No, please, let me go,” I begged, unable to twist away from him. My vision blurred. The heat inside the ambulance was suddenly too much like the stifling heat in a shack filled with women held at gunpoint.

The man forced my arms down to my sides. “Restrain her,” he told the other guy. “Then sedate her.”

Straps held my wrists in place and I couldn’t move. I was breathing in shallow pants now, my gaze swiveling frantically from one man to the other.

“Blane!” Where was he? He said he’d come for me, protect me. “Blane!”

The men ignored me, one of them snapping on latex gloves before picking up a syringe. I couldn’t look away from the needle as I watched him turn toward me and reach for my arm. Terror clogged my throat.

I screamed.

“What the hell are you doing to her?”

Both men turned and I saw Blane standing in the doorway, his face livid.

“Blane!” I gasped, tears leaking from my eyes.

“She’s hysterical. I was about to sedate her,” the man with the syringe said. “Can you calm her down?”

Blane didn’t bother answering, his attention now focused on me as he took the man’s place at my side.

“Calm down, Kat,” he said gently, unfastening the bonds holding me. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe. I promise you.”

His gray eyes held mine captive.

“Just breathe,” he said. “Slow down. Take a deep breath.”

Blane’s hand was warm and strong around mine. I focused on him. The restraints were gone and I could breathe again. I realized I was shaking uncontrollably and my skin was clammy with a cold sweat.

As awareness of where I was and what had happened came to me, I wanted to crawl under the gurney in embarrassment. I couldn’t believe I’d just freaked out so badly over a stupid ambulance.

“Oh my God.” I breathed, covering my face with my hands. I wanted to cry. “What is wrong with me?”

“Is she calm?” the EMT standing outside asked.

“Yeah, he’s got it,” the other replied. “I think we’re good to go.”

The doors slammed shut and a moment later the engine started.

“Ma’am, I need to check your vitals. Can I have your arm please?”

I nodded, moving my arm so he could grasp it. I avoided looking at him. I could feel my face burning.

“I’m so sorry,” I managed. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“That’s okay,” he said easily, adjusting a blood pressure cuff on me. “People get panic attacks sometimes. And you did just get hit by a car, so it’s perfectly understandable.”

“Is that what it was? A panic attack?” I asked, feeling slightly better.

“No.”

Blane’s curt reply had me glancing at him. I noticed he still held my hand, but I couldn’t make myself let go. Not yet.

“You had a flashback.”

My ribs were bruised, which was why it hurt so badly to breathe. I also had multiple contusions, a sprained wrist, and a mild concussion.

And judging by what Blane was telling me, possibly post-traumatic stress disorder.

After he explained the symptoms to me, I couldn’t disagree with his conclusion, though it did make me feel… weak. Blane had been on a battlefield for months at a time, killing people and people trying to kill him. It seemed he had a right to the PTSD he’d experienced. I’d been taken and held against my will for just a week, most of which I couldn’t remember. It seemed pathetic that I was so mentally fragile that I would have PTSD from that.

After giving me a prescription for pain medication, they let me out of the hospital.

“Where are the admittance papers?” I asked Blane as he helped me get to my feet from the hospital bed.

“I filled them out for you,” he said.

I heaved a mental sigh. Another hospital bill, only no health insurance this time, plus the ambulance ride, X-rays, an MRI—the list was endless—I was sure I’d be paying on this for a long while.

Thank you, William Gage.

“He seems persistent, doesn’t he?” I said, having no choice but to lean on Blane as we left the hospital. I didn’t need to specify who I was talking about.

“It would seem so,” Blane said, his voice flat. He flagged down a taxi and helped me inside, following me in before giving the driver my address.

“Wait, what about my car?” I asked. It was still in the grocery store parking lot.

“I called Gerard a while ago,” Blane said. “He came by to get your keys while they were taking x-rays and drove it back to your apartment.”

I sighed. I missed Gerard. It would have been nice to say hello to him.

We’d been at the hospital for hours and now it was mid-afternoon. My whole Sunday shot to hell, and I had class in the morning and homework to do tonight.

After taking more time than usual managing the stairs to my apartment even with Blane’s help, I was glad to sink down onto my couch. Tigger immediately jumped in my lap.

“Are you hungry?” Blane asked.

I glanced up at him. “I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine.” I absently trailed my fingers through Tigger’s fur. He purred, kneading my thigh with his clawless paws.

Anger flared in Blane’s eyes, but his voice was calm and controlled when he spoke. “I’m not saying you can’t, but I’m the reason for this and I want to keep you safe. Please let me.”

I decided to be brutally honest, with both him and myself. “Blane, I can’t do this,” I said baldly. “I can’t… be around you right now. We’re not friends, and while you
may be able to compartmentalize us into the friend zone, I can’t.”

I hated having to make myself so vulnerable in front of him, with my weakness on full display, but I had nothing left to hide behind.

Blane was a master at concealing his thoughts and emotions, but a flicker of pain crossed his face and was gone. He glanced down at the packet the hospital had given me. I’d set it on the coffee table and now he picked up a couple of papers from the stack.

“They gave you some prescriptions,” he said. “I’ll go get them filled and grab something for dinner. Here, you take this.” He removed his gun from its holster and handed it to me. “Just in case. I’ll be back shortly.”

I thought about reminding Blane that I already owned a gun, but that would also remind him that Kade had been the one to buy it for me, so I kept my mouth shut and gave a quick nod. I had to look away from his penetrating eyes that saw too much. He hadn’t said if he’d stay or leave when he got back, but at least I’d gotten a short reprieve. Moments later he’d gone, locking the door behind him on the way out.

Carefully getting off the couch, I grabbed fresh clothes and went to shower. The apartment was stifling and I still had grit on me from hitting the asphalt. Blane hadn’t returned by the time I came out. I settled back on the couch, careful to sit on the blanket. I’d dressed casually again in a cami and knit shorts, though my bruised ribs had me skipping a bra. I was glad I’d done laundry yesterday.