Page 4 of This Time I'm Keeping You
“Release her!”Nick roared.The man turned, but he couldn’t see his face, as he wore a batman mask.He then shovedPoppy hard, sending her stumbling back.Nick tried to reach her, but she fell, hitting the ground hard.
“Oh my God!Did you see that?”someone yelled.
Nick reached Poppy as her attacker sprinted away.He couldn’t follow—he needed to check on her—but the rage inside him wanted to.
She wasn’t moving, and her eyes were closed as he dropped beside her.
“Poppy, open your eyes.”Nick’s hands were shaking as he cupped her face.“Please wake up.”
Her lashes fluttered open, and she tried to sit up, but he held her down.
“Easy, Tinker Bell.Let me check you overfirst.”
“My laptop?”
“You held on to that.Your bag’s gone, though,” he said, slipping a hand beneath her head to feel her scalp.She winced as he ran his fingers lightly over where she had hit her head.“Nasty lump there,” he said but didn’t add it was bleeding.
“He took my handbag?”she whispered.
“Afraid so.”
She tried to speak again but hissed as he probed around the edges of the lump on her head.
“Does anyone have something I can put over this?”he asked the spectators.
A hand passed a wad of tissuesto Nick, and he pressed them to her head gently.
“Ouch!”
“I remember when you walked into that door in college.You weren’t very brave then either.”
“I was too,” she gritted out.“You were the wimp, the jock who was always limping or wearing a sling.”
Nick smiled as he ran his hands over her shoulders and down to her wrists.
“It’s called sport, Poppy, and if I remember correctly, you had an aversion to it.”
“Ouch!Shit, Atherton, stop torturing me!”
“But it’s so much fun.”Nick looked down at her slender wrist, lying at an awkward angle in his hand.
“Do you hurt anywhere else?”
Poppy moved her legs and arms.
“Just my head and wrist,” she whispered.“I don’t feel well.”
“Okay, well, if you’re going to be sick, you tell me, and I’ll make sure you’re aiming the other way.”
“Such a shithead,” she whispered.
Nick looked at the circle of faces above them.He focused on a lady about his mom’s age.
“Can I use that pretty scarf of yours to make a sling, ma’am?I’ll replace it for you, I promise.”He smiled as the woman quickly unwound the fabric from her neck and handed it to him.
“I-I can’t believe that still works,” Poppy hissed as he slowly eased her upright into a sitting position.
“What works?”he said, tying the satin around her neck and fashioning a sling.
