Page 127 of Axe-identally Married
“Dr. Savard, did you see the mess your husband made?”
Behind me, Fielder took photo after photo. With every click of the shutter, my eye twitched. Damn, I wanted to stomp on his phone. I didn’t know what they were implying, but this was not what it looked like.
“Hebert here got blackout drunk and drove the Zamboni through the building. And then did God knows what else. From what the fire crew is saying, the condensers are shot, and there are leaks everywhere.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Cole said slowly.
“You did.” The pompous prick stood over us, trying to intimidate us. “You have a record of petty crime. You’re only coaching hockey because of legally mandated community service, isn’t that right? And you just destroyed the place, meaning the rest of the season will be canceled for all those kids. Such a shame.”
“I love coaching,” Cole said, clutching his head, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. “And I love this rink. It’s where I grew up. I would never.”
Shit. I had to intervene. He clearly didn’t have all his faculties. Who knew what he might say.
I grabbed his shoulder and squeezed hard. He took the hint and closed his mouth.
“My husband did nothing wrong,” I said curtly. “He is ill, and I’m taking him home.” I had no legal experience, but every instinct I had was telling me to get him the hell out of here.
“No, ma’am. I’m afraid I can’t allow that. This is a crime scene.”
“No.” I crossed my arms and lifted my chin. “That—” I waved in the direction of the rink. “Is a crime scene. This is a parking lot, and we’re going home.”
The chief took a step toward me, his face softening. “Willa, I’ve known you your whole life. I have great respect for your parents, so I’m going to be honest with you. You married a drunk and a criminal. I know that’s hard to hear, but you’re a young woman with a bright future. Don’t ruin it by hitching your wagon to a Hebert.”
Rage flaring inside me, I took a step toward him, resisting the urge to throw a punch. “Do not talk about my husband like that.” I hissed. “You have no evidence, and he’s ill.”
“If you leave, then I’m gonna have to go wake up a judge and get a warrant. Then I’ll come all the way out to your house to arrest him.”
I glared at him. “There will be no need. You have no evidence, and he’s done nothing wrong. Looks like the environmental police have arrived.” I nodded at the vehicles pulling into the lot. “You should probably go deal with them.”
I squatted and draped Cole’s arm over my shoulder. Then, using all my strength, I got him to his feet. We did it, and I vowed never to complain about our morning workouts again.
Slowly, I walked him to my car, taking care not to slip, my mind spinning.
I pushed him into the front seat and peeled out of the parking lot. A mile down the road, I pulled over.
“What’s going on?” he asked as I fired off texts to his brothers. This was bad. Really bad. As I looked at his confused face, I knew in my bones he wasn’t drunk.
“Stay here,” I said, hopping out. Since the house call I’d made to Kara’s, I’d been keeping my medical kit in my trunk. I had everything I needed to perform field surgery if necessary.
“Take your shirt off.” I sanitized my hands and wiped everything down with alcohol pads.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Here.” I thrust a small container of ammonium carbonate near his face.
He gagged, his eyes going wide. “What is that?”
“Smelling salts,” I explained. “Shirt, now.”
He took off his layers, his movements still slow.
When he’d finished. I wiped him down with alcohol and tied a rubber tourniquet around his bicep.
“What is that?” he asked as I popped the top off the butterfly needle with my teeth.
“I’m drawing blood,” I said, steadying his arm. “You’ll feel a pinch.”
He dropped his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. “Why?”
