Page 29 of Knotting the Firefighters
Again.
Two weeks.
Fourteen days since Gregory tried to erase me, and here I am, already finding new and creative ways to endanger myself.
"Fantastic life choices, Murphy," I mutter, reaching for the phone I can see sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. "Absolutely stellar decision-making skills."
The screen lights up at my touch, immediately assaulting me with a magnitude of notifications that makes my still-fuzzy brain want to retreat back into unconsciousness. Missed calls, text messages, voicemails—all from the same contact name that makes my chest tighten with complicated emotions I absolutely don't have the bandwidth to process right now.
CALDER HAYES:
Forty-three missed calls.
Forty-three.
The texts are equally excessive, starting with casual check-ins that progressively devolve into increasingly frantic demands for confirmation that I'm still alive and haven't been murdered/kidnapped/spontaneously combusted.
The most recent message, sent approximately ten minutes ago.
Hayes:If you don't reply in the next 5 minutes I'm searching every building in this godforsaken town until I find you
The threat sits there on my screen, completely serious despite its dramatic phrasing, because Calder Hayes absolutely would tear apart Sweetwater Falls brick by brick if he thought I was in danger.
Overprotective Alpha with attachment issues.
The thought carries affection despite my attempt at irritation, because his concern comes from genuine care rather than possessive control. He worries because he loves me—in whatever complicated, undefined way we've managed to build between stolen moments and careful boundaries.
My thumbs move across the screen with more coordination than I probably possess/
Me:Well I got no clue where I am either so have fun
The response is instantaneous, like he'd been staring at his phone waiting for any sign of life.
Hayes:WENDOLYN
Hayes:Where the FUCK have you been
Hayes:Are you okay
Hayes:I'm calling you
The incoming call notification appears before I finish reading his texts, and I decline it automatically because phone conversations require energy I don't currently have, especially when dealing with an Alpha whose concern manifests as aggressive interrogation.
Me:Can't talk right now. Not sure if it's safe to call
Hayes:SAFE?!
Hayes:What the hell does that mean
Hayes:Where ARE you
Hayes:Wendy I swear to god
Me:Connected to an IV. Need to look around first before I can explain
The three dots indicating he's typing appear, disappear, reappear with enough frequency to suggest he's composing and deleting responses with equal fervor. Finally:
Hayes:IV?!
