Page 52 of Owned By The Cowboy
“Thank you. God, thank you. She knows you, and I just… I couldn’t stand the thought of her sitting there alone with strangers.”
“She won’t be alone. I got her.”
“I know. I know you do.”
The relief in her voice does something to my chest. She trusts me with her injured kid. Completely, without question.
“Text me when you get there?” she asks.
“Of course. Drive safe.”
“I will. And Blayne? Thank you. I owe you everything.”
“You don’t owe me anything, baby.”
I’m buckled up and driving before I even hang up. Tommy shouts something behind me, but I’m already gone.
The school is only ten minutes away, but it feels like an hour. I keep thinking about Nia lying there hurt, probably scared and in pain, waiting for someone to show up.
I park haphazardly in the visitor lot and jog toward the main entrance. The secretary recognizes me - small town, everyone knows everyone.
“I’m here for Nia Scott,” I tell her.
“Oh good! Right through there.”
I find Nia sitting on a cot with an ice pack on her ankle, looking pale but trying to act tough. When she sees me, relief floods her face.
“Thank God,” she says. “I was afraid they were going to make me wait alone.”
“Not happening, kiddo. How you feeling?”
“Like an idiot. I went up for a spike and came down wrong.”
The nurse fills me in. Definitely sprained, possibly strained. Needs an X-ray to be sure.
“Your mom and grandma are on their way,” I tell Nia. “But they’re going to be a while. You want to get this checked out now, or wait for her?”
“Now. Please. It really hurts.”
“Then let’s go.”
The paperwork is a fucking nightmare since I’m not family, but I call Reggie and she talks to the nurse, giving permission for me to handle everything. Twenty minutes later, I’m carrying Nia to my truck because she can’t put weight on her ankle.
“This is embarrassing,” she mutters.
I chuckle, my mood lighter now that I’ve seen she’s fine. “Why?”
“Because I’m fourteen and you’re carrying me like I’m Annalise.”
“You weigh about as much as Annalise. When’s the last time you ate a real meal, smart lady?”
She rolls her eyes, confirming she’s definitely feeling like herself. “I eat plenty.”
“Boba doesn’t count.”
She huffs out a laugh.
* * *
