Tiffany Snow - Out of Turn

“What happened?” I managed to croak.

“There was a car,” Blane said. “It hit you.”

Ah yes. Now I remembered. I’d been angry and left the store. In retrospect, probably not the smartest thing to do given what Blane had told me about Gage. My only defense was that I’d been so upset at Blane that I hadn’t been thinking clearly.

The sirens were coming closer and I assumed they were for me. We’d attracted a small crowd, which had to back up when the EMTs got there. Blane stepped out of my line of sight as the technicians examined me. Once they had asked me a hundred questions (“Ma’am, can you wiggle your toes?”) and realized I hadn’t broken something vital, like my spine, they placed me on a gurney and started to put me in the ambulance.

This was the first time I’d been in an ambulance since I’d had to call one when my mother was so ill in the last stages of cancer. I’d insisted on riding in the back with her, and I still remember the sympathy on the EMT’s face as he watched me hold my mom’s hand. She’d wanted to die at home but had ended up passing in the back of that ambulance before we even reached the hospital.

That memory assaulted me now and irrational fear struck.

“Wait,” I gasped, struggling to sit up against the safety restraints they’d placed across the gurney. “No, wait… let me out!”

“Ma’am, you need to lie still,” one of the EMTs said, gently but firmly pushing me back down.

“No!” My voice was shrill now as they rolled me inside the ambulance. Medical equipment surrounded me, its silence foreboding. I couldn’t see outside. I couldn’t see Blane.

Panic hit and I started struggling in earnest despite the pain in my side, tugging fruitlessly at the belts that kept me prisoner. I couldn’t breathe properly. Each breath was a stabbing pain.

The EMT grabbed my wrists. “You’re going to be all right,” he said. “Just calm down. We’ll get you to the hospital.”

“No, please, let me go,” I begged, unable to twist away from him. My vision blurred. The heat inside the ambulance was suddenly too much like the stifling heat in a shack filled with women held at gunpoint.

The man forced my arms down to my sides. “Restrain her,” he told the other guy. “Then sedate her.”

Straps held my wrists in place and I couldn’t move. I was breathing in shallow pants now, my gaze swiveling frantically from one man to the other.

“Blane!” Where was he? He said he’d come for me, protect me. “Blane!”

The men ignored me, one of them snapping on latex gloves before picking up a syringe. I couldn’t look away from the needle as I watched him turn toward me and reach for my arm. Terror clogged my throat.

I screamed.

“What the hell are you doing to her?”

Both men turned and I saw Blane standing in the doorway, his face livid.

“Blane!” I gasped, tears leaking from my eyes.

“She’s hysterical. I was about to sedate her,” the man with the syringe said. “Can you calm her down?”

Blane didn’t bother answering, his attention now focused on me as he took the man’s place at my side.

“Calm down, Kat,” he said gently, unfastening the bonds holding me. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe. I promise you.”

His gray eyes held mine captive.

“Just breathe,” he said. “Slow down. Take a deep breath.”

Blane’s hand was warm and strong around mine. I focused on him. The restraints were gone and I could breathe again. I realized I was shaking uncontrollably and my skin was clammy with a cold sweat.

As awareness of where I was and what had happened came to me, I wanted to crawl under the gurney in embarrassment. I couldn’t believe I’d just freaked out so badly over a stupid ambulance.

“Oh my God.” I breathed, covering my face with my hands. I wanted to cry. “What is wrong with me?”

“Is she calm?” the EMT standing outside asked.

“Yeah, he’s got it,” the other replied. “I think we’re good to go.”

The doors slammed shut and a moment later the engine started.

“Ma’am, I need to check your vitals. Can I have your arm please?”

I nodded, moving my arm so he could grasp it. I avoided looking at him. I could feel my face burning.

“I’m so sorry,” I managed. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“That’s okay,” he said easily, adjusting a blood pressure cuff on me. “People get panic attacks sometimes. And you did just get hit by a car, so it’s perfectly understandable.”

“Is that what it was? A panic attack?” I asked, feeling slightly better.

“No.”

Blane’s curt reply had me glancing at him. I noticed he still held my hand, but I couldn’t make myself let go. Not yet.

“You had a flashback.”

My ribs were bruised, which was why it hurt so badly to breathe. I also had multiple contusions, a sprained wrist, and a mild concussion.

And judging by what Blane was telling me, possibly post-traumatic stress disorder.

After he explained the symptoms to me, I couldn’t disagree with his conclusion, though it did make me feel… weak. Blane had been on a battlefield for months at a time, killing people and people trying to kill him. It seemed he had a right to the PTSD he’d experienced. I’d been taken and held against my will for just a week, most of which I couldn’t remember. It seemed pathetic that I was so mentally fragile that I would have PTSD from that.

After giving me a prescription for pain medication, they let me out of the hospital.

“Where are the admittance papers?” I asked Blane as he helped me get to my feet from the hospital bed.

“I filled them out for you,” he said.

I heaved a mental sigh. Another hospital bill, only no health insurance this time, plus the ambulance ride, X-rays, an MRI—the list was endless—I was sure I’d be paying on this for a long while.

Thank you, William Gage.

“He seems persistent, doesn’t he?” I said, having no choice but to lean on Blane as we left the hospital. I didn’t need to specify who I was talking about.

“It would seem so,” Blane said, his voice flat. He flagged down a taxi and helped me inside, following me in before giving the driver my address.

“Wait, what about my car?” I asked. It was still in the grocery store parking lot.

“I called Gerard a while ago,” Blane said. “He came by to get your keys while they were taking x-rays and drove it back to your apartment.”

I sighed. I missed Gerard. It would have been nice to say hello to him.

We’d been at the hospital for hours and now it was mid-afternoon. My whole Sunday shot to hell, and I had class in the morning and homework to do tonight.

After taking more time than usual managing the stairs to my apartment even with Blane’s help, I was glad to sink down onto my couch. Tigger immediately jumped in my lap.

“Are you hungry?” Blane asked.

I glanced up at him. “I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine.” I absently trailed my fingers through Tigger’s fur. He purred, kneading my thigh with his clawless paws.

Anger flared in Blane’s eyes, but his voice was calm and controlled when he spoke. “I’m not saying you can’t, but I’m the reason for this and I want to keep you safe. Please let me.”

I decided to be brutally honest, with both him and myself. “Blane, I can’t do this,” I said baldly. “I can’t… be around you right now. We’re not friends, and while you may be able to compartmentalize us into the friend zone, I can’t.”

I hated having to make myself so vulnerable in front of him, with my weakness on full display, but I had nothing left to hide behind.

Blane was a master at concealing his thoughts and emotions, but a flicker of pain crossed his face and was gone. He glanced down at the packet the hospital had given me. I’d set it on the coffee table and now he picked up a couple of papers from the stack.

“They gave you some prescriptions,” he said. “I’ll go get them filled and grab something for dinner. Here, you take this.” He removed his gun from its holster and handed it to me. “Just in case. I’ll be back shortly.”

I thought about reminding Blane that I already owned a gun, but that would also remind him that Kade had been the one to buy it for me, so I kept my mouth shut and gave a quick nod. I had to look away from his penetrating eyes that saw too much. He hadn’t said if he’d stay or leave when he got back, but at least I’d gotten a short reprieve. Moments later he’d gone, locking the door behind him on the way out.

Carefully getting off the couch, I grabbed fresh clothes and went to shower. The apartment was stifling and I still had grit on me from hitting the asphalt. Blane hadn’t returned by the time I came out. I settled back on the couch, careful to sit on the blanket. I’d dressed casually again in a cami and knit shorts, though my bruised ribs had me skipping a bra. I was glad I’d done laundry yesterday.

A knock on the door had me sitting bolt upright, with fear slashing through my veins before I could even think. I took a deep breath. It was probably Blane. After all, it’s not like a killer politely knocks on your door before shooting you, right?

Blane’s gun was in my hand as I peered carefully through the peephole. Surprise and happiness flooded through me when I saw who it was, and I hurriedly threw open the door, a broad smile on my face.

Kade looked me over from head to toe, his eyes lingering on my breasts and short-shorts before his piercing blue gaze met mine.

“I fucking love summer.”

I launched myself at Kade without a second thought to the pain that doing so produced in my ribcage. His arms encircled my waist and he lifted me off my feet. I hugged him tightly, my excitement and joy at seeing him felt like a dam had burst inside.