Page 45 of Wilder Heart

The Rose County hospital, despite being the only one in the county with an emergency room, was quiet. The ER was empty, as silent as a library. Wilder seemed to be the only patient there, and when Cash rounded the door, he looked up from his lap, relief blossoming on his face.

“Hey,” Cash said, rushing to his side and taking his hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Wilder croaked. But he didn’t look okay. Stress lined his face, and he was paler than normal.

“What’s going on? Tell me what’s wrong. Are you in pain?”

“No, no. They hooked me up to an IV in the ambulance. Pretty sure there was morphine in it. But the ride over and the hallway out there, the enclosed walls, it all just reminds me of…” He trailed off.

Prison. It reminded him of prison.

Cash leaned over him, guiding his head up and kissing him firmly. Wilder sighed into it, his hands fisting in Cash’s shirt like he wanted to pull him closer. It was a heady feeling to be wanted by such a beautiful man.

When they parted, Wilder looked dazed. “That’snothing like prison.”

Cash smiled. “Good.”

After that, it was a lot of sitting and waiting. Cash refused to go anywhere further than the lobby for coffee. Doctors and nurses came and went. They wheeled Wilder out for an X-ray and MRI at separate occasions. While he was gone, Cash texted Mary-Beth and Lain in a group chat. Lain wouldn’t see it until he was close enough to civilization for a signal again, but he could read them when he got back. Mary-Beth could update him in the meantime over the radio, as planned.

Finally, hours after they arrived in a flurry, the doctor informed them that Wilder had a partial tear of a ligament in his knee. Not the ACL, which Cash only knew about because it wasthe big sports injury that took out Wayne’s favorite quarterback last season. The doctor said he should be as good as new in four to six weeks, but he needed to avoid bending or using his leg between now and then. They gave him crutches and a medical wrap to keep his knee straight during the day.

Getting in the truck was an ordeal. He thought Wilder might have to sit in the back with his leg laying across the seats, but they managed to get him in the passenger seat by sliding it as far back as it would go, which gave him enough room to keep his braced leg straight.

Wilder was subdued as they left the hospital’s maze-like parking lot, and Cash wracked his brain for something to cheer him up. It was going to take time for him to see that getting hurt and being forced to rest wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

They’d been at the hospital for hours, and it was near dinnertime. They could probably both use a little boost to get them through the rest of the evening, so when the local coffee place came into view, he turned into the parking lot.

Wilder perked up, turning away from the window to look at him. “What are we doing here?”

“Getting expensive, sugary coffee.”

Wilder snorted out a laugh. “What? Why?”

Cash pointed at his smile. “For that right there.”

Wilder softened, relaxing against the seat. “I don’t need…” He trailed off as they came to a stop in front of the drive-thru’s menu board. “I don’t even know what half of thatis. This place wasn’t here eight years ago.”

“Yeah, I know, but they’re all pretty much the same. You can’t go wrong with any of this, really. Do you like chocolate? Caramel?”

“I don’tknow. Just get me whatever you get, I guess.”

Cash chuckled. He ordered two caramel macchiatos and struggled not to laugh again when he saw Wilder mouthing the word‘macchiato’in the corner of his eye.

When they got their drinks, he waited, watching, as Wilder took his first sip. His brows rose and he took another sip right away.

He was pretty sure Wilder had something of a sweet tooth, and he tucked that information away for future exploitation. If sugary snacks kept him happy, Cash had no problem funding this harmless addiction.

Once they were back out on the road, Cash said, “If you want, I’ll drop you off at your room and go give Lain an update for you.”

Wilder looked over at him unreadably. “You’d do that?”

“Yes. I told you, if you aren’t ready to talk to him, I can handle him for now.”

“For now,” Wilder repeated.

Cash inclined his head. “Yes, for now. He’s your brother, for better or worse. I don’t think you can get away with never speaking to him again, no matter how much you both mightthinkthat’s what you want.”

“Thatiswhat he wants,” Wilder said wearily.

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