14. Gage

Chapter Fourteen

GAGE

I was braced for a face-first meeting with the hardwood floor, but just as the lights blinked out, a pair of strong arms caught me and broke my fall.The solid, unwavering strength of his chest was a shock, and I sagged against him, tethered by a lifeline I hadn't even known I was clawing for until I'd nearly shattered myself on his doorstep.

Darkness was streaking the corners of my vision, but I forced my eyes to stay open, latching onto his face like nothing else mattered.He was so damn handsome, it nearly broke me: the fierce line of his jaw, the dark stubble, and those even darker eyes blazing down at me.

If he was the last thing I ever saw, it would be worth it.

“You’ve got a hell of a way of saying hello,” Wyatt muttered, slipping one arm beneath my shoulders and hooking the other under my knees.Then he lifted me right off the ground, without so much as a grunt of effort, like I was a scarecrow made of straw.

I'd never been so flabbergasted.

“The p-princess carry? C’mon, man,” I complained through my teeth, trying to distract myself from the agony of being jostled.

“Shut up, Gage." There was raw anger in his voice."Unless you’re planning to get down and walk.”

His hands hurt, and it took everything I had to keep from crying out in pain as he kicked the door shut and carried me through the living room.For a second, I fooled myself into believing I could walk on my own, but I knew I wouldn't even get one foot under me before I collapsed.I wasn't making it anywhere without him, and we both knew it.

His smell was everywhere, cedar and smoke, comforting me and pulling me back to the last time he'd carried me like this.The last time I'd felt truly safe.

“Some things never change,” I mumbled blearily, resting my aching head on his shoulder.

He didn’t answer, but his arms tightened around me.

I’d only ever driven by his place when I was younger, catching quick glances that made me wonder what it looked like inside.Now that I was here, I could barely find the energy to care, but I had the impression of a space that was cozy and masculine, with rustic wood and high, open-beam ceilings.Simple and solid, with big, clean windows that let in a view of the creek.Built to last, just like the man who lived here.

He settled me on a worn leather couch as gently as he could, but I still groaned and squeezed my eyes shut.When I was pretty sure I wasn't about to puke, I opened them again to discover him kneeling in front of me.His eyes were all over me, cataloging blood and bruises in a methodical, professional way I couldn't even begin to process.

“Look at you,” he whispered hoarsely.His fingers brushed my face, so gently I barely felt their warmth.

I tried for a weak, wobbly grin and slurred, “You should see the other guys."

His eyes narrowed, and his mouth pressed into a thin line that told me he’d heard something he didn’t like.“How do they look?”

“I dunno,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably and then hissing.I’d only just realized I couldn’t move my left arm.It was impossible to pick out individual injuries when my body felt like one giant bruise.“K-kinda hard to keep track when it’s six-to-one.”

Wyatt went perfectly still. For a moment, I thought he hadn’t even heard me, but then I caught a look at his face and instinctively recoiled.I’d only seen that kind of raw, ugly fury a few times in my life—and it never ended well for me.

“Six…” he said in a voice so low it was barely more than a growl.

“They…w-weren’t bad odds,” I gasped, trying to find a position that didn’t feel like it was ripping me in half.The couch was buttery soft, but it may as well have been stuffed with rocks.“If they hadn’t gotten a couple lucky shots in the beginning, I might’ve taken ‘em.”

If I hadn't been sure of it before, I was now: that anger was directed solely at me.His hand tightened on the arm of the couch until his knuckles were white.“You think this is a joke?”

“Not a joke...but you’ve still got to laugh,” I said, growing more and more alarmed by the sudden pounding of my heart.It wasn’t fear, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t dying, but I couldn’t slow it back down.I hated to see him like this.It hurt even more than the beating.

Abruptly, Wyatt rocked back on his heels and dug his phone from his pocket, jaw clenched into a bloodless knot as his thumb hovered over the screen.

Panic spurted through me. “No!” I rasped, catching his wrist before he could dial.

His gaze snapped to mine, and the fury I saw was so strong and so violent I almost released him."You're beat to hell," he said in a voice so tightly controlled I wondered how it didn't shatter."You need a hospital, Gage. This isn't up for negotiation."

I held his stare, forcing myself to keep breathing despite the pain.“I’ll crawl out your fucking door before I go back to the hospital,” I threatened.“What’ll Vanderhoff do if I’m mixed up in two fights in as many weeks?Besides…I don’t…I don’t want my brothers to know.”

He glared, clearly not swayed.“They’re going to find out sooner or later.”

“Then later,” I ground out, putting all my strength into pulling his hand away from the screen.“If they see me like this…it’ll be bad.You know that.”

Wyatt’s nostrils flared as if my words only made him angrier.“They deserve to know you’re putting yourself in danger like this.”

“I can handle it," I insisted.

“Handle it?” Wyatt echoed incredulously, as if he couldn't believe his ears.He gestured toward the battered, broken body I couldn’t even keep upright on his couch.“Is that what you call this? Handling it?Gage, you can barely sit up. You’re bleeding all over my couch, and you want me to believe you’ve got things under control?You might have yourself fooled—but not me.You’re not bulletproof, and one of these days, you’re going to run out of luck.You need to let me help you. Just this once.”

I shook my head, wincing when the world spun, and sinking deeper into the overstuffed cushions.“Why do you think I’m here? I’ll let you help me, Wyatt.But only you. The best thing you can do is let this stay between us.”

He stared down at me, grinding his teeth so hard I could hear it from where I sat.I’d never seen him so blazing mad.I held my breath, waiting him out, willing him to understand.

After a long beat, he exhaled heavily, dragging a hand through his hair.“Fine,” he bit out. “But you’re not walking out of here until I say so.From this moment on, you’re my prisoner.You do what I say, when I say it, and you don’t leave until I’m sure you can stand on your own two feet again.If things take a turn, you're going to the hospital whether you like it or not.”

That didn't sound good. I wanted to fight him on it, but my brain was mush.Bone-deep weariness was setting into every muscle and every thought.Maybe I didn’t want to fight so badly after all.Maybe I wanted to close my eyes and let someone else carry the weight for a while.Wyatt was good at that. Always had been.He’d been my rock since day one, and he'd only ever let me down once.

“Okay,” I said wearily. “You’ve got a deal.”

Wyatt didn’t waste a second. He went straight to the kitchen, opened a cabinet under the sink, and pulled out a monster first aid kid.I'd never seen anything like it.Thrusting a clean dish towel under the faucet, he barked, "Take off your shirt."

It was a simple command, and I tried—I really did.I propped myself up on my good arm, ignoring the pain that detonated through my chest, and started working on the buttons with sluggish, unsteady fingers.Wyatt's stare was a lead weight on the back of my head, but I paid him no attention, focused only on my task.My hand didn't want to cooperate.I'd only managed two buttons by the time he returned with the supplies.

Impatiently, he brushed my fingers away and finished the buttons with a few flicks of thumb and forefinger.In another time and another place, I might have found it sexy, but the moment I tried to shrug off the shirt, a searing pain tore through my shoulder.I cried out before I could stifle it.Sweat broke out all over my body, and my stomach lurched, ready to climb up my throat and flop into my lap if I so much as twitched.

Wyatt’s hands were there in an instant, steadying me.“Gage, hold still,” he commanded, all hard edges.“That shoulder’s dislocated.”

“Just—just help me get it off,” I gritted out, dripping in painsweat.It felt like my shoulder was being cut in half with achainsaw.

Wyatt’s eyes met mine, and this time he didn’task.He knelt beside me on the couch and gripped my arm with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he wasdoing.“Don’t bite your tongue,” he warnedharshly.“This is gonnahurt.”