Page 92 of Liar's Point

He veered toward you when you lunged out of the way.

She closed her eyes, thinking of Emmet’s words as the memory emerged from the shadows. It had been there for hours, lurking, but she hadn’t let herself really look at it until now.

She set her phone on the counter beside the folded T-shirt Emmet had put there while she’d been on with Kate. She hated lying to her sister. Well, she hadn’t exactly lied—she’d told Kate what had happened, but she’d downplayed the hell out of it so her family wouldn’t come rushing over here. Her mom would freak out, and Nicole couldn’t deal with it right now. The meds were taking effect, and she was starting to feel out of it.

She finished washing her arms and legs and draped the damp towel over the side of the tub. Then she turned off the faucet. She reached for her crutches, and they clattered to the floor.

“Nicole?”

Emmet was just outside the door.

“I’m fine, just—” She leaned forward, and pain shot up her leg. “Shit!”

The door cracked open. “You okay?”

“Don’t come in! I’m changing.”

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Damn, what are you doing?” He stepped into the little bathroom and picked up the crutches. She pulled the bath towel up against her bra as he frowned down at her. He’d taken off his jacket and holster, and now just wore jeans and a black long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Why didn’t you call me to help you?” he asked, eyeing the heap of torn clothes on the floor.

“Because. I’m fine,” she said, even though getting the stretchy black miniskirt over the boot had been agonizing.

She held the bath towel to her chest. “Can you help me stand up?”

He reached down and gently slid his hands under her upper arms to lift her to her feet. She felt a rush of dizziness. His arm came around her waist, and she leaned against him.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, reaching for the T-shirt on the counter.

“Here. Lift your arms.”

The towel fell away as he helped her pull the shirt over her head.

“I can do this,” she said.

“Fine. Do it.”

He eased back, watching her as she tugged the shirt around her thighs and reached for the crutches. She tucked them under her arms.

“No comments,” she said.

“About what?”

“I’d better not hear you telling everyone at work how you saw me naked.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not naked.”

“Close enough.”

He stepped into the hallway, and she took a moment to shake off the wooziness before crutching past him.

“I think the pill’s kicking in,” she said.

“I can tell.”

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