Claws & Crochet

Part 72

WARNER

"I'm intense? That guy came in here ready to murder." Abram points at me.

He's not wrong.

Zoey frowns at her brother, then turns back to me. "Warner, would you mind sitting in that chair?" She tilts her head toward a seat next to the bed. Since it's too far away from her to keep ahold of her hand, I press a kiss to her thankfully cut-free palm before doing as I'm told. Zoey smiles at me then gives her brother a more rueful version of the expression. "I've asked all of you to chill out and sit down since we got here. Thank you for acting the hero, but right now I just need to be the one in charge of me."

Abram stares between the two of us before releasing a frustrated, but resigned sigh. "We'll be right outside those doors."

"I know you will."

The brothers file out, all of them throwing glances back at their sister. Each one looks equally concerned, which makes it impossible to tell who might have hurt her.

Once it's just the three of us left, the doctor proceeds to disinfect her cuts. Zoey's lips press tight, going white around the edges. She's in pain, and I don't want to add to her discomfort, but not knowing what really happened is making my wolf turn rabid. Helpless anger presses against the edges of my thoughts.

"Zoey?" I move to the edge of my seat, scooting it closer and offering my hand, which she takes with her uninjured one. "Can you please tell me what happened? Saying you fell doesn't explain all of this." I gesture to her skin, riddled with cuts, and her limbs that are possibly broken.

Dr. Briggs threads his needle. "You can talk, just try to keep still. This shouldn't hurt with the numbing agent."

Zoey gives a nod before refocusing on me. "When I said fell, I didn't mean I tripped." The sight of the metal piercing the skin on her neck tries to distract me from her explanation. I remind my wolf that the needle is helping her, just like when she got her arm stitched up.

She continues, unaware of how close I am to losing it. "My brothers were making the cabin feel crowded, so I went out to the treehouse. Every time I've been up there before, the thing has felt solid. But I guess it is a few decades old. Anyway, I climbed up, and the second I stepped onto the floor, my weight must've set it off balance somehow. The whole thing fell, and me along with it."

"Shit," I mutter. That treehouse is at least fifteen feet off the ground. Maybe twenty. I was right. She could have died.

With my thoughts threatening to descend into a panic spiral, I'm shocked to hear her light chuckle. When I glance up, Dr. Briggs meets my stare with a confused one of his own, as he pauses his stitching.

"How does your head feel, Zoey?" The doctor asks. "Are you dizzy?"

"Oh, no. Sorry. I know this isn't a laughing moment. It's only . . ." She glances at me, biting her lip. Another giggle slips out, and it's the sweetest sound I've ever heard. "Warner, you still have glitter in your hair."

That's when I know, without a doubt.

Zoey Gunner is my future.