“I’m sorry, Ash.”

Tossing my hand out, I wave him off. I know he feels bad enough already, and I honestly don’t have it in me to tell him he’s an asshole right now.

“Just drive,” Dillon snaps, and I rub his chest when it rumbles again. His body relaxes, ever so slightly, as his hand moves to the back of my head, holding me there.

“Fuck you. This is your fault,” Jax retaliates.

“Me? You came at me like a deranged lunatic.”

“You’re engaged to another woman!” Jax roars.

I bury my face against Dillon’s chest and his arms tighten around me. “I’m not fucking engaged. If you gave me a half a fucking second, I would have told you that.”

“Damn fucking straight, you’re not engaged anymore, since you married my goddamn sister.”

“Fuck! Just fucking drive and shut the fuck up,” Dillon hisses, and I squeeze my eyes closed, feeling a headache coming on. Feeling the tension in the car growing with each mile, I’m more than thankful when we reach the hospital and Jax drops us at the ambulance bay where Dillon get’s out, still holding me.

Carrying me through the automatic emergency room doors, I hear them swish closed behind us, then seconds later, a woman gasp.

“Oh my, come on. Follow me.” I try to lift my head to see where we’re going, but Dillon’s large hand holds down my head, keeping me in place.

“She needs a doctor,” he barks as a curtain slides open, and I’m gently placed on a hard mattress. Wrapping his hands around my foot, my eyes squeeze closed.

“The doctor will be right in,” the woman murmurs before leaving.

“Baby, look at me.” Opening one eye then the other, I focus on Dillon’s worried face above mine.

“Stop snarling at everyone,” I whisper, and his eyes slide closed while his forehead drops to my chest. Running my fingers through his hair, I pull back, forcing him to look at me. “I’m okay. It’s just a cut. I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he agrees softly.


“Could this morning get any better,” I groan, knowing the person attached to that voice.

“What’s going on?” David, my ex, asks.

I look at him and then Dillon as he mutters, “Fuck me,” while resting his hand against my chest, keeping me down when I attempt to sit up.

“Are you the doctor on duty?” Dillon asks, and David looks between Dillon and me.

His brows snap together as his chest puffs out, making me roll my eyes. “I’m a doctor at this hospital,” he informs us, like we don’t know, when of course we do. Everyone in town knows he’s a doctor, because he brings it up any time he’s got a chance. But that’s not why I broke up with him. Nope, we broke up because he thought any woman lucky enough to snag him would praise Jesus for her good fortune. Not so much. He was rude, condescending, and a big, fat cheat.

“Get someone else.”

“Pardon?” He narrows his eyes.

“You heard me.”

“Dillon.” I try to sit up again, and his eyes snap to me.

“He’s not touching you.”

“Dillon,” I warn as Jax comes in, narrowing his eyes on David.

“Why the hell are you in here?”

“I’m a doctor,” he grumbles, tugging on the collar of his dress shirt.

“Find someone else to take over for you,” Jax says, and Dillon grunts in agreement.

“Christ.” I cover my face, letting out a breath of annoyance. “I’m going to fricking bleed to death in a damn hospital.”

“Just move and let me have a look at her,” David snaps as Dillon’s hand on my foot tightens.

“David, what are you doing in here?” A woman wearing a doctor’s coat frowns at him as she comes through the open curtain, followed by the nurse who left earlier. “You’re supposed to be off duty.”

“Yeah, David. You’re supposed to be off duty.” Dillon glares as I rub my hands down my face in frustration.

“We’ve got this covered. You can go,” the new doctor dismisses him, taking a step toward me. “I hear you’re going to need some stitches.” She smiles softly, putting on a pair of gloves as the nurse rolls over a cart with supplies and begins to set up things on the top.

“I don’t know, but there’s a lot of blood,” I tell her, and she nods then moves her eyes from the hands wrapped around my foot, up the arms attached to those hands, and blinks when her eyes meet Dillon’s.

“Lord, save me,” I mutter as her eyes widen, and she blushes.

“My wife needs a doctor. Are you a doctor?” Dillon grumbles, and she clears her throat.

“Ye… yes, of course,” she stutters out as her blush grows deeper, and her eyes drop to my foot. I can’t even blame her for her reaction, since I had the same one when I saw Dillon for the first time. “Foot injuries tend to bleed a lot. It may not be as bad as you think,” she continues after a moment, unwrapping the towels that are swaddling my foot, but she’s wrong, it is that bad. And it’s not until an hour and four stitches later that I’m finally sent home with an extremely annoying overbearing man, who also happens to be my husband.

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