Page 8 of The Alpha's Sin
I just sit there, feeling dazed. What just happened? And why can’t I forget the intense look on his face?
5
POPPY
“That’ll be seven seventy-five,” I say to the customer across the counter from me. “Cash or card?”
She slips her card in the slot and I finish the transaction. I’m working at the Dollar Tree—the very same one I bought the cheap pregnancy test at. I applied at several places, but they’re the only one who got back to me. So here I am, doing my best to earn my keep.
It’s only been a week and a half since I moved in with Logan. He didn’t want me to work—he wanted to pay for everything, but I got stubborn.
“I’m not just going to sit around and do nothing all day,” I told him. “No offense, Logan, but I need to earn my own money.”
I didn’t say it out loud, but what I’m tired of is being dependent on a man. I let Dirk convince me to stay home and look where it got me. I like Logan—he’s been really good to me—but I don’t feel like I can trust any man right now. Not after what Dirk did.
So here I am, doing my best to earn a paycheck while Logan tries to track his little brother down. (So far, no luck—it’s like Dirk disappeared off the face of the Earth.) I’m also trying my best not to look at the aisle where they have the pregnancy test kits because every time I do, I feel so anxious it makes me dizzy.
Actually, I’m feeling kind of dizzy right now, but I do my best to ignore it. I grip the edge of the counter with one hand as I hand the customer her bag with the other.
“Have a good day,” I say automatically, and she nods and murmurs, “You too.”
The next customer in line steps forward. I’m just starting to ring up his items—a birthday card and a shiny pink bow—when my dizziness gets worse. I grip the counter harder.
It’s not a big deal—it’s just because I couldn’t keep my breakfast down, I tell myself. I’ve been puking almost every morning but I’m usually able to wait until after Logan goes to work. I’ll be okay in a minute. I just?—
And then the world spins around me and I go down—hard.
The next thing I know, I’m looking up at the ceiling and the customer is shouting,
“Hey—she fell down! Hey, somebody help!”
I try to get up, but I can’t—the room is still spinning. And then, for a minute, everything gets really hazy.
When I open my eyes again, someone is holding me in their arms.
“Huh?” I look around, feeling dazed. Why am I being held? And how in the world are they holding me? I’m not exactly skinny.
Then a face comes into focus and I see Logan. His pale gray eyes are beyond worried as he cradles me to his chest. He still has on a hard hat from the construction project he was overseeing, as though he rushed over here so fast he forgot to take it off. How did he get to the Dollar Tree?
“Logan?” I struggle to get out of his arms, but he only holds me tighter. Why is he here? Then I remember that I put him down as my emergency contact person. My supervisor must have called him when I passed out.
“Be still.” His deep voice is strict as he strokes my hair out of my eyes. “You fell and hit your head.”
“I did?” I put a hand to my head and wince. Yup—it’s sore. I’ve got a bump back there and it really hurts.
“You might have a concussion,” Logan informs me. “I’m taking you to the hospital to find out.”
“What? No,” I protest weakly. “I’m fine—I just need a minute and I can get back to work.”
“Like hell you will,” he growls. He’s carrying me out to his work truck like I’m as light as a feather. He’s so tall I feel like I’m thirty feet off the ground. But maybe that’s just because I’m feeling dizzy again. I close my eyes and let my head lean against his shoulder.
“I’m okay,” I say, but I can’t make my voice sound strong—it’s not. I’m not. I feel tired and weak and little and stupid. I interrupted his whole day because I can’t even keep myself upright at work. Some independent woman I’m turning out to be!
“You’ve been under a hell of a lot of stress lately, sweetheart,” he says, surprising me, both with the endearment and the concern in his deep voice. “Let’s just get you checked out.”
I don’t make any more complaints as he gets me into the passenger side of his truck and makes sure I’m buckled in. It’s kind of nice how careful and concerned he is. Dirk never worried about me. Even that time I sliced my finger making him lunch and had to go to urgent care for stitches because it was bleeding all over. He barely even looked up from his video game.
“Wrap it in a paper towel and drive yourself,” he said, when I begged him to pause the game and take me. “I can’t stop right now, babe—I’m right in the middle of a quest.”
