7. Paging Dr. Dickhead

Chapter Seven

PAGING DR. DICKHEAD

Bramley

S winging the ax behind me and bringing it forward with a crack, I split the log in one blow, the wood splintering down the middle as the pieces shoot off the stump.

I stop and raise my forearm, wiping the sweat from my brow before momentarily resting my arms at my sides.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Bringing that woman back here, and not just to Obsidian Falls but my goddamn house.

I look at my back porch, my eyes bouncing from window to window, tracking the various shadows moving across the low lit rooms.

This isn’t like me at all, doing some good fucking deed that involves saving a body instead of getting rid of one. And for someone who was about to run a truck off the road and murder the driver just because they were getting too close to the turn for Obsidian, it’s real fucked that I blazed into town with that very same rescued body as if my ass was on fire.

I called Nan on the way. She, of course, woke up Pap, who then called Rex and Ezekiel, and by the time I rolled up to my house—with every intention of filling in my partners when I got there—everyone was up and waiting for me.

For us.

Part of me is annoyed that Zeke took off. Not that I expected him or Titus to follow me home but a little support from the other jackass who was there when I found that woman would have been nice. Especially since Nash got pissed off enough to start giving me the cold shoulder as soon as he put two and two together, even if he still helped bring the female into the house. Clay wasn’t thrilled but he bitched at me while he ran around helping Nan set things up, and that seemed to pacify him for now.

Still, if my brother had stuck around long enough to maybe back me up on why the hell we were out there, maybe it would have eased some of this shit.

I shake my head as I grab another log and stand it up.

Then again, maybe it wouldn’t matter at all since I brought someone back to our house.

Boy, the looks I got from the unwanted audience waiting for me.

Pap just laughed. The old coot cackled his damn head off for some reason that won’t make any sense to anyone but him, and he did it right up until he fell asleep in the rocking chair by the fireplace. Ezekiel had that same constipated look he always gets whenever one of us does something stupid, and my dad was bouncing back and forth between raging lunatic and confused puppy.

Between those three, Nash’s unmatched ability to pretend I don’t exist, and Clayton’s lecture, I had no idea what to expect from Nan.

Which was stupid.

I should have known she’d be the most level headed of the bunch.

No yelling, no weird reactions, or bitching me out. She just started barking orders and put almost everyone to work, making them help her finish organizing the spare room while I got the woman situated on the bed.

Then she kicked everyone out before starting her exam.

I split the next two logs with one swing, walk over to pick up the pieces, and pile them with the rest.

The snow finally let up around sunrise, nothing more than flurries here and there, which was a good enough excuse to come out here and busy myself with some unnecessary bullshit for a few hours.

We didn’t need more firewood.

Yeah, we had trees in the pole barn, ready to be chopped when we got low but Nash and I both come out here and do this if we need to let off steam, or get restless for one reason or another, but that’s been happening a lot over the last few months, so we haven’t gotten low in just as long. Me chopping up whatever I can get my hands on right now means we could heat our fucking house, shops, and probably a good chunk of town if we were living in the eighteen fucking hundreds.

It’ll be good for her.

I pause, the axe raised above my head as that stupid thought runs through it.

Sure, the fireplace in the spare room is currently roaring, and the temperature will be beneficial, but outside of getting her the help she needs, I’m not sure why I’m concerned.

She’s not from around here and won’t be staying no matter how badly she’s injured, and as soon as she can travel, we’ll be taking her to the nearest hospital. Any concerns I had should have stopped the second I handed the female off to Nan.

But they didn’t.

And that pisses me off.

Bringing the axe down in one hard, fluid motion, I split the wood and bury the blade in the stump, the sting shooting up my arm briefly as I scowl. “Fuck.”

“As much as I like watching you go all mountain man, shirtless and chopping wood in the snow…” I look over to the porch to find Clay standing there, his arms folded against his chest, a smirk on his face while his bedhead is still kicking in full force. “Nan wants you.”

I nod, leaving the axe where it is as I grab the logs and add them to the pile before heading toward him. “She say why?”

“Nope.” Clayton grins as he produces a t-shirt and holds it out. “Just to go get her dickhead grandson and bring him to her.”

Rolling my eyes, I tug the cotton down over my head, then scrub a hand over my face, only now realizing I’m still wearing my mask and Nan will yank it off and beat my ass if I walk in like this.

“Nash still pissed?” The skeletal jaw on black fabric slides down over my mouth and throat, resting around my neck while I scratch the stubble on my chin.

My beta pushes off the railing and follows me. “Oh, yeah.”

“He waiting behind this door to knock me out?”

“Nah.”

I pause in the doorway and raise a brow. “You working with him so he can sneak attack me?”

“No way,” Clay says with a laugh, pushing me through the threshold and walking me toward the spare room. “I said what I needed to, I’m over it.”

That’s not surprising.

He lets things go a lot easier than Nash, and less upsets him than either one of us. Clayton said what he needed to and now he’s over it.

I’d also put money on him being curious as hell about what led to me showing up at our place with a female who was barely half alive, and why I even bothered.

That makes two of us.

“Go get her, tiger,” Clay whispers as he pats my ass, laughing when I shoot him a look.

He blows me a kiss before disappearing into the living room, and as I turn back to the door and rest my hand on the knob of the spare room, I can’t help the way my stomach twists.

I hold my breath as I slowly push the door open, my eyes taking a minute to adjust to the firelight.

The entire room is bathed in a dark orange glow, soft and welcoming. It’s quiet and calm, and oddly enticing.

There are candles lit along the empty shelves, incense burning in the corners of the room, and the overall scent is clean but warm, something like vanilla with an undertone of florals.

Closing the door softly, I press my back against it, taking in the entirety of the space as if I’ve never seen it before.

Nan turns from the card table set up next to the bed, raising a finger to her lips as if I’m going to come in here barking all kinds of shit, and intentionally waking the dead.

Or, those close to it, anyway.

She goes back to the odd spread before her, a mix of homeopathic mountain remedies, surgical tools, and sterile instruments yet to be touched.

I move cautiously, further entering the room, wanting to see what she’s doing but I stop shy and wait just out of reach.

“She’s strong,” Nan whispers as she sets down her sutures. “Her will is stronger yet.” She turns toward the pitcher and basin set up close to the fireplace, washing her hands, the water gradually turning red.

Now that my line of sight is clear, I can’t help the way my eyes are drawn to the bed.

Jesus.

I knew it was bad based on what I found when I unwrapped that tarp but seeing her in the firelight, even if it is just her face, it’s amazing that she survived injuries like those, and in the bitter cold at that.

“You did good, Butch,” Nan says as she comes to stand next to me, both of us staring at the slow rise and fall of the female’s chest.

“Yeah?”

She nods. “Too much longer and she wouldn’t have made it.”

I’m fucking amazed that she did. “What’s the damage?”

Nan sighs, long and exhausted. “Shockingly, not many broken bones; mainly a few of her ribs. Lots of bumps and bruises, superficial lacerations. The big ones are the stab wounds.”

“Lot of those, too?”

“Three, and they all missed major organs. It’s bizarre.”

I frown and glance at my grandmother before I find myself taking a step toward the woman in the bed. “How so? Aside from the obvious.” Like finding her in a ravine.

Nan shakes her head, something I only see out of my peripherals as I move along the foot of the bed. “It’s almost like whoever hurt her, intentionally missed anything fatal, and they were relying on the beating and elements to take care of her.”

That is fucking bizarre.

Bizarre and goddamn cruel.

“I stitched up what I could, and used the herbal salve on any wounds that didn’t need them. Despite how it looks, the hypothermia made a difference in the swelling, and it slowed down the possibility of her bleeding out.”

La-Dee-fucking-dah.

Hypothermia for the win.

Rolling my eyes at everything about how I’m feeling right now, I catch myself as I nearly sit on the edge of the bed. “Is there permanent damage from that? The hypothermia?”

“Only time will tell,” my grandmother says solemnly before pointing toward the IV stand across the room. “I’m rewarming her blood the best I can, using the hot packs and blankets to bring her body temperature up. Nash is out with your father getting something from the clinic for me so I can hopefully start to warm her airway and regulate her breathing.” She smiles at me as she takes my hand, tugging me down into the chair next to the bed. “Your omega wants to live, Butchy. She’s not going without a fight, and I have every intention of helping her cheat.”

I chuckle at that, relaxing a bit as I settle into the wingback. “Yeah, I can’t argue with that. I thought the same…” Her words hitting me a few seconds too late, my back goes ramrod straight as my head swings in Nan’s direction. “My what ?”

“Hush your mouth,” she hisses as she smacks the back of my head. “That girl needs peace and quiet so she can rest.”

“What the hell did you call her?” I whisper, rubbing my dome and bracing for Nan to repeat herself.

There is no fucking way I heard her right.

“Your omega, boy. Did I stutter?”

“No, but?—“

“Then you heard right the first time and wanted to test my patience by asking for a second.” She scowls at me, a look that still makes me quake in my boots, even after thirty-eight fucking years of seeing it. “This poor woman is an omega, though, I’m not really surprised you didn’t notice. Dead bodies and frigid temperatures masked her scent pretty well. Now that she’s thawing…” Nan raises a brow in my direction. “I figured you’d smell it when you walked in.”

“Not so much.” I blink wide eyes as I look down at the female, fighting the urge to inhale her scent the way I suddenly want to. “How do you know she’s an… we haven’t… an omega? In Obsidian Falls?”

Nan smacks me again as I lean closer to the bed. “Don’t be an idiot, Bramley Ambrose.”

I scowl up at her and open my mouth but she cuts me off.

“Am I an alpha?”

“Yes, but?—“

“Is your Pap an alpha?”

“Well, yeah, but?—“

She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms against her chest. “And were your Grampa George and your Gramma Lily omegas?”

I nod slowly and lean away from her. “Yes, Nan, but?—“

“Then I think I’m pretty goddamn qualified to determine the designation of the dying female you brought in, especially while I was elbow deep in her blood.” I open my mouth, again, but she raises her hand. “Ah, don’t you say one thing to argue. You can’t anyway, and not just because I know an omega when I see one.”

Lifting my hands in defeat, I slump against the chair and sigh. “You win.”

“Damn straight. Now you sit here and stew on that while you keep an eye on her. I need to pee, eat, and see where the hell Pap is because if he hitched a ride with Nash and your father, I’m gonna lose my mind on three men who’ve forgotten who the real head of this family is.”

With that, my grandmother storms out of the room but doesn’t slam the door, no matter how much she wants to. Instead, she pulls it closed slowly and carefully, glaring at me the entire time, right up until her pretty, wrinkled mug disappears.

God, that woman is scary.

Scary, and usually right.

Turning slowly, I focus on the woman’s face, trying to see what Nan saw, knowing it wasn’t about that particular sense at all.

A fucking omega.

The first one to come to Obsidian since that goddamn tragedy took place.

We aren’t stupid enough to think the only omegas out there are the ones who are being trafficked or kidnapped or whatever, but the ones who aren’t must know about our town, and they steer clear of heading this way because of how close we are to the ranch.

Randomly finding one in a ravine doesn’t exactly count as arriving on purpose, but she’s still the first in a long fucking time, and it’s adding another layer to an already fucked up scenario.

I sigh as my eyes move over her face, tracing the lines that aren’t swollen, following the bruises along what must be a pretty bone structure. Scooting the chair closer, I look at her vitals on the machine across from me, watching the steady rhythm of her heart, the oxygen level that is definitely too low, the random spikes in her BP that indicate she’s feeling pain.

I yawn and scrub my hand over my skull trim, the weight of the last twenty four hours starting to press down on me, and when I blow out a breath only to do it again, that’s when I smell what Nan must have.

Poppies.

Specifically red poppies, fresh ones blooming at the height of spring.

Breathing deeper, my eyes slide shut as more of that scent fills my lungs, invading my senses, and seeping right down to my bones, and?—

“Fuck.” My eyes pop open as I shoot to my feet, the wingback flying backward and crashing into the card table, everything that was sitting on top of it now scattered all over the floor.

I trip over the chair as I stumble toward the door, my heart rate spiking the same as the female’s, her monitor beeping loudly as her breathing picks up speed. My back hits the wall and I scramble for the knob, feeling around behind me until the fucking thing gooses me in the ass and the second it’s in my grip, I turn it so hard it busts right out of the wood holding it in place.

“Bram?” Clayton says as he quickly rounds the corner, nearly slamming into me as I all but run toward the back porch. “Bramley, what’s going on?”

I burst through the screen door like a bat out of hell and start running. I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing, but I push my legs as hard as I can until I feel like they might collapse.

Dropping to my knees, I draw in lungful after lungful of the crisp winter air, trying desperately to get the scent of poppies out of my nose, but it’s too late.

Not only am I going to smell that scent forever, I’m going to feel it.

In my body, my bones, that fragrance is burned into my very soul, and there is no escaping what that means.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t escape, period, and there has to be a way to do that because the chances of the first fucking omega I’ve seen in fifteen years being my goddamn scent match are slim. Slim to fucking none, even if fate is getting a kick out of watching this go down.

I don’t need a fucking match, and that match doesn’t fucking need me.