Page 106 of The Anchor Holds

“See yourself out.” I grabbed my keys from the counter.

A large, pale, strong hand fastened around my wrist. Tight enough to hurt. Almost enough to break. I wished he would break it so I’d have another source of agony that wasn’t coming from my chest cavity. But no. Elliot was in the hospital. The last thing I needed was me turning up with a broken arm, turning anyone’s attention to me when every doctor in the place should be focusing on my man.

I didn’t make a sound of pain, just glared up at him. “Get your hand off me right fucking now.”

He squeezed harder, brown eyes roving over me, eyes that were no longer blank and dead. He looked as if he was going to say something. Though there was nothing to be said between us anymore.

Right as I was genuinely becoming worried that my wrist was going to break, he let me go.

I didn’t hesitate to turn and run out the door.

.

I broke every speed limit during my drive to the hospital, not that I’d ever obeyed them before anyway. It took too long.

I harassed nurses that didn’t deserve to be harassed in order to get his room number then rushed into the space that was already filled.

His brother, father, niece, and a man I didn’t recognize were already in the room. The man was in a uniform, indicating that he was probably another volunteer, maybe the chief.

My eyes were only on them a handful of seconds, on a masked Clara a little longer, giving her a smile before I rushed to Elliot’s bedside. They had all come quickly, at this hour, because that’s the kind of family they were.

“You have all of your limbs.” Chest tight, my eyes ran over his entire body. There was a bandage on his head, scratches on his forearms but no casts. He was attached to an IV and I noted a discarded oxygen mask.

“That I know of,” he croaked, voice raspier than usual.

My lungs seized at the frailty of his voice, the pallor of his skin. He was always so vibrant, so full of life. Something primal told me that he’d brushed death that day. Closely.

I picked up the mask. “Shouldn’t this be on your face?” I shoved it at him. “I doubt it’s here for décor.”

He laughed, a thin sound that was sickly and made me taste bile. His hand moved slowly, lifting the mask before putting it back down. “I don’t need it.”

My eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

I turned back to the silent peanut gallery. “Does he need it?”

Beau opened his mouth.

“I don’t trust men,” I spoke before Beau could, focusing on Clara. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me, kid.”

Clara grinned at me underneath her mask. “He doesn’t need it. The doctor just came in and said so.”

I nodded, winking at her. For a heartbeat, I was concerned whether she’d suffer any residual trauma from being back in ahospital so soon. I also worried about her fragile immune system and superbugs.

Then I considered her father, who wouldn’t put her in harm’s way for anyone, not even Elliot, so I turned back to Elliot, who had obviously been watching me the whole time.

“I’ll give you a full checkup later,” I assured him.

His eyes sparkled. “I’m betting the doctors didn’t miss anything, but I’m willing to let you take a look.”

My cheeks heated, and though I hadn’t imagined it possible to feel desire in a hospital room—where Elliot was lying hooked up to monitors, the rest of his family behind me—my body hungered for him.

“Let’s keep this PG, for the child,” Elliot’s father rumbled from behind me, a warm teasing in his tone.

That only made me flush hotter, in embarrassment. Me. I didn’t get embarrassed.

My instinct was to step back, but Elliot’s hand clamped onto my wrist, holding me with surprising strength given his current position.

My lips sank into my teeth to suppress the cry of pain trying to escape from the grip. It was much looser than Jasper’s had been, but the skin and bone there was tender, extremely so. I hadn’t realized just how violently Jasper had handled me, a sign of him being unraveled, dangerous. The adrenaline rushing through me during the drive to the hospital must’ve numbed me to it.

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