Page 121 of The Persistence of Thornes
This time I can’t help but chuckle. With a hum, I trace the slope of her nose. “That’s not going to happen, pretty girl. I’ve been enamored with you since the moment your brothers whacked me on the head with a soccer ball.”
She scrunches her nose. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”
Laughing, I drag my hand down the column of her neck. “You’re worrying about things you don’t need to, but I’m glad you’re talking to me about it. I can’t help you through it if you keep your thoughts to yourself.” I tap the side of her forehead, driving home my point. “Now that we’ve handled that, are you ready for lunch? I was thinking about making sandwiches.”
“Yes, please.” This time when she pulls away, I let hergo. “I’m starving.” Likely knowing I won’t let her help, she hops up onto the counter. “You spoil me.”
I pull out lunch meat, then a loaf of bread. “Making a sandwich for you isn’t spoiling you. It’s called providing for you.”
“Ah.” She sways her feet back and forth. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
I pop four slices of bread into the toaster. “Yep. If I’m going to spoil you, it’ll be with more than a simple turkey sandwich.”
Her expression softens. “I’m not the kind of girl who needs anything lavish.”
My chest warms. “Maybe not, but you deserve it.”
She drops her head back with a groan. “Can you stop being so perfect? Your existence alone has got to be a sore point for the rest of the male population.”
I nearly choke on a laugh as I twist the lid off the mayo. “Maybe the rest of the male population needs to learn that they’d be nothing without women.”
She opens her mouth, but before she can respond, her phone rings. With a huff, she pulls it from her pocket. “Watch it be the contractor calling to say that instead of starting early, he’ll actually have to delay the project.” With a finger hovering over the screen, she frowns. “It’s the school.” She answers, her expression stony, but after the space of a couple of heartbeats, her eyes go wide and her lips part in horror. “I’m on my way.”
That’s all she says before she leaps to her feet and pockets the device.
“What happened?” I ask, grabbing the ingredients so I can shove them back in the fridge. “Are they okay?”
Her hands flutter at her sides, her mind a million miles away. I throw all the items onto the top shelf, slam the fridge, then cup her cheeks, worried she’ll have a panic attack.
“Halle, breathe. Tell me what’s going on.”
Her eyes dart frantically about the room. “Keys. I need my keys.”
“Not like this, you don’t,” I argue. “I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”
Her anxious gaze finally meets and holds mine. “The hospital. I need to get to the hospital.”
Halle all but slams her body into the desk just inside the entrance.
“Casen Rose. I’m here about Casen Rose.”
The bored-looking receptionist takes her time looking up. “Are you family?”
“Yes.” Halle blows out a frustrated breath, making the hair around her face flutter. “I’m his sister and guardian.”
The receptionist taps on her keyboard, still taking her sweet-ass time. “It looks like he’s still in the emergency department. If you head through those double doors there”—she points to our left—“follow the hall to the end and turn left. Then look for the ER sign. It’ll be on your right.”
Halle takes off in that direction, and I give a muttered, “Thankyou,” before following her.
Once we find the emergency department, we’re stopped at yet another reception desk.
“I’m here for my brother,” Halle says without preamble. “Casen Rose. I’m his guardian, Halle Emerson. He was brought in by ambulance from his school.”
This receptionist is much more reactive than the first. She has a pass filled out before Halle has finished rattling off this information.
“Bay twelve on your left,” she says, handing the visitor sticker to Halle. “Are you gonna need a pass too?” The receptionist peers over at me.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer, as Halle bounces in place beside me.
