style="font-size:15px;"> ‘I took a course over the summer when we were between seasons.’
It figured that he’d focus on her dislike of the outside world, like that was important right now. She could do things outside the circus, she just didn’t care to. When the circus off-seasoned at Bohannon Farm, as it did every year, it was like living at the circus. The only difference with the summer she’d gone to school had been that she’d had to spend time with a bunch of possibly dangerous weirdos who’d thought mowing the lawn every Saturday, frequenting the mall, and driving an SUV was something to brag about. ‘My trailer is that way.’ She pointed with her good arm, and he veered off, following the directions she supplied.
Within two minutes she was inside her cozy little home. ‘There’s supplies in the skinny cabinet above the sink.’
Reece put her down in front of the sink and the first thing he did was wash his hands. ‘Paper towels?’
She gestured to the other side of the counter and then opened the cabinet to start getting out supplies with her good arm, then thought better of it and stuck the bad one under the faucet. It would hurt, but if she was going to have pain she’d either control it or be the one in control of inflicting it.
Number-one rule or dealing with Reece? Don’t let him hurt her again. Even if it was that for-her-own-good kind of hurt.
No, especially the for-her-own-good kind of hurt. She’d had enough of that, thank you very much.
‘This doesn’t look good,’ he muttered, as he wrapped his hand around her wrist to take control of the flow of water over the wound. In that second she forgot all about her fear for Gordy and about the pain. She even forgot about how angry she was at him for what he was about to do to them all. Skin-to-skin contact was more potent than being carried, especially when it reminded her of how big he’d gotten. Hadn’t he supposed to have been full grown when he’d gone off to school? When did men stop getting bigger? Was he still growing? This was ridiculous.
Her chest ached when she looked up at him. ‘You’re too tall. Makes my neck hurt.’ She pretended that was where the pain was. It was better than give in to the urge to press against him and lean into the strength she’d seen in action. Give in to the urge to keep forgetting the bad things. Soak in the comfort she knew waited in his arms.
Stupid.
That should be rule number two—don’t let Reece comfort her ever again.
She pulled her arm from under the water and ripped a fresh paper towel from the roll to blot at it, then applied pressure to staunch the blood that started flowing again. The ache deep in her arm had subsided but it surged back to life when she put pressure on it. If she mentioned that, he’d have her at the emergency room faster than she could say, ‘Don’t put me to sleep, it’s just a broken arm.’ It’d be her front left leg if she were a quadruped, mirroring Gordy’s injury. Fate’s twisted sense of humor...
He caught her arm again and directed it under the counter light where he could examine the bite. It was well on its way to bruising and there were several ugly punctures and a shallow gash.
‘It doesn’t need stitches. There are a couple of punctures that I might put a stitch or two into, but if you have butterflies, that can hold for now.’ He watched her, his voice having lost that edge of irritation as soon as he’d gotten his way. His mouth hadn’t got the news that he was less irritated, though. His lips pressed together, hard and cranky. ‘Probably better anyway, in case an infection does start up—which happens way more often in punctures than cuts, you realize. And the reason we should have gotten this treated faster.’
He unfurled his fingers from her arm and her thinking cleared a little. She needed more of that. ‘You know, I can do the medicine and bandaging. You visit your mom. I need...I need you to go and I can take care of this myself.’ Him going would help. It had to help.
‘I’m almost done.’ The way he no longer met her eyes said that he felt something at least. It might be a ghost of the connection that they’d once had, but he still felt something.
‘I don’t care if you’re almost done. I want you to be somewhere else. Somewhere I’m not. I will finish up and then go back to the stables. You’re messing everything up.’ Her voice rose as she spoke, reaching to near shrillness at the end. ‘Because...you’re still...’
‘You can be calm if you want to be calm.’ He sure sounded calm. But then she remembered—he didn’t really care about them. This was just Doctor Man, who lived to treat patients. Or something.
‘I’m trying to be calm. You could hurry up some. You know I need to get back.’ Gordy needed her. Focus on that. ‘Except I forgot that you’re good at leaving people waiting.’ No, don’t focus on that. Gordy. Get it together.
He gave her a look and snagged her wrist again—no doubt to keep her from getting away. She’d have to climb out the window in her bedroom or squeeze through the one over the sink if she wanted to get out. His big body blocked the tiny kitchenette. And he continued to work at his own pace.
She tried deep breaths to calm down. She really was trying, that was the problem. She’d thought she could always be calm, but right now she couldn’t. Her heart hammered against her sternum like the beat of so many hooves in the ring. She could hear it, see it pulsing in her vision, and she knew that wasn’t good. Her deep breaths got shallow and fast, outside her control.
Everything was out of control.
‘They won’t euthanize him while I’m gone, right?’ she blurted out. ‘That’s the kind of thing that takes time and preparation, right?’ More words tumbled from her lips.
Like he knew anything. Or maybe he did. Maybe he was keeping her there forever for a reason. ‘They’d wait long enough to let people say goodbye if it came to that, right?’
Right? Right? God, she really did sound crazy. And she’d had a plan for speaking to him on the farm, when the dust had settled after they’d all settled in. Later. In the future.
‘Take a deep breath. In through your nose,’ Reece said, his voice firm and demanding. He wanted to control everything. Even how she breathed!
‘Jolie,’ he said her name again. ‘I think you’re having a panic attack. Slow down your breathing.’
‘I’m not panic attacking.’ Was that even a term? She’d said it wrong. Everything was wrong. That’s exactly the kind of inarticulate nonsense that would make him think twice about even considering her request when she got round to making it. And probably everything she’d said and done since she’d seen him again would add to that thinking twice and thrice, and whatever fourth, fifth and sixth were... Sure, no problem, he’d hand over the reins of his birthright to someone who might be a babbling idiot.
Jolie had no proof she could even lead picnic ants in a straight line to the potato salad. She knew she could do it. Or she thought she could. She’d been so sure before he’d got here. Before she’d fallen headlong into that deep place where she stuffed all the emotions that were too hard to put words to.
It would be better if she knew it in some logical manner that came with charts and graphs. Doctors probably loved charts and graphs!
‘I can’t breathe.’ She probably had caught some awful horse-bite disease. Everything was wrong. Everything.
He let go of
