Page 39 of Found by the Pack
“No, you were right,” I say, already crossing to her. “Let me check her out.”
“Boone…” he says lowly. “She’s scared.”
“I know.”
I crouch beside the couch. Up close, she’s all fine bones and smudged eyeliner. Even in his clothes, she’s got this grace, soft wrists and delicate collarbones.
Doesn’t matter—none of that. She’s still a patient.
I switch into paramedic mode.
“Sadie?” I say softly. “It’s Boone.”
Her eyes flick to me. Fuzzed. Muddled.
“I remember,” she murmurs. “The sneakers.”
“Yeah.” I smile gently. “Those shoes didn’t deserve hot chocolate trauma. Listen, I’m gonna ask you a few questions, okay?”
She nods. Or maybe her head just tilts.
I check the size and depth of the forehead cut—surface only. Lucky. I grab my penlight, warn her, and check her pupils. One’s slightly slower to respond. Shit.
“What’s today?” I ask.
“…Monday?”
“It’s Tuesday, sweetheart.”
She groans. “I was close.”
I glance at Shepard. He looks like he’s ready to crumble into dust.
“I’m not going to the hospital,” Sadie says suddenly.
I blink. “You should.”
She lifts her chin. “No.”
“I get that,” I say gently. “But I need to make sure you’re okay. That cut?—”
“It’s not that deep.”
I sigh. “Look, if you won’t go, we’ll monitor you here. But I need your word. That means I wake you every couple hours. Ask you basic questions. Make sure you’re not bleeding internally.”
“Fine,” she mumbles. “But I’m not leaving.”
“Alright.” I nod. “Then lie back. You can sleep in short bursts, but I’ll set timers.” I turn to Shepard. “Blanket. And grab your first aid kit. I’ll clean the cut again.”
Shepard rushes off and I glance down again. She’s already half-dozing, cheek pressed to the armrest.
Poor thing looks like she’s been through seven kinds of hell. More than just the accident. There’s this brittleness to her, like she’s been trying to hold herself together with duct tape and day-old coffee.
“Alright,” I say, gently touching her wrist to keep her awake. “No sleeping deep, remember?”
She nods, barely.
When Shepard returns, we get her bandaged up, warm, and tucked in. She curls into the blanket, one hand still loosely hanging near Gus, who flops down beside her like the good dog he is.
