Southern Heart, Madison, Natasha [the little red hen ebook TXT] 📗

the blood. "You got twenty stitches there," she says, and I look at her. My eyes going to the white medical tape on both sides of my ribs. "I can’t say for sure without an X-ray, but you have at least three broken ribs."

"I’ll survive," I say, my hand holding one side and then the other. "What about my legs?"

"Seventy stitches. So far, they look good. But I’m not a plastic surgeon, so they might leave a scar," she says, and I look down at my hands. They are swollen and red with white bandages around both wrists. "How long were you tied up for?"

I take a deep breath, the pain making me close my eyes. "If you don’t mind…"

"If I don’t mind," she says, her voice tight. "I do mind." She looks at me, and I see her eyes get a deep blue now. "I mind that for the last fourteen days, I’ve prayed more than I have in my whole life. If you had died," she says, and I can see that her lower lip quivers just a bit, but she fights it back. "That would have been on my hands. In my house."

"Trust me, if I died, it would not have been at your hands." I put my head back on the pillows propping me up. The feeling of my throbbing head makes me wince.

"What hurts?" she asks, and I know that even though she is pissed, she is still doing her job.

"Head aches," I say, and she walks over to the other side of the room where she had medication set up. She grabs two pills and brings them over to me.

"I don’t want to take anything." I shake my head.

"It’s just ibuprofen." She hands them to me, and my hand turns around as she drops them down in the center of my palm. Most of my palms are filled with little cuts from dragging my sorry ass through the forest. "You need to take little sips of water," she says, holding up the cup with the white straw. "If you gulp and drink too much, you’ll make yourself sick."

I don't tell her that I know all of this. I don’t say anything because what can I say to her? She put her life on the line when she opened that fucking door. When I hear the door open and then slam shut, I’m already ready to get out of bed and throw her out of harm's way. My breathing starts to come in pants, and I start to get up when she puts her hand on my forearm.

"It’s Ethan," she says, her voice soft as I look up. "It’s just Ethan." Her eyes go a soft blue now, and she repeats herself. "It’s just Ethan."

"Well, look at this son of a bitch," Ethan says, coming into the room with his hands on his hips.

"I’m sorry," I tell him, my voice lowering. "I’m so fucking sorry I brought this to your house." I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I just didn’t know where else to go."

"Hey," he says, coming to stand beside Chelsea. "You're family," he says. "Where else would you have gone?"

"Fuck if I know." I shake my head, and I know I’m going to have to tell him everything.

"The guys are coming just for a debrief," he tells me, and I nod at him. "Did you have something to eat?"

"He just woke up," Chelsea says to him, and her irritated voice is back. She looks over at me now, and a softer side comes out, "But I can get you some broth." She looks at us and walks out of the room.

I wait for her to be out of ear shot, before turning to him. "The minute I can walk out of here or walk without bleeding, I’m going to be a memory."

"Where will you go?" he asks, and I want to say the cabin.

"Cabin was torched and burned to the ground," he tells me, and my heart sinks and breaks. That cabin was the only thing I had that was mine. The only thing I decided to keep. The only thing I ever held on to, and now it is gone. I knew I had stayed too long in one place and should have moved along, but the cabin brought me peace. It brought me hope that one day I would be able to live without looking over my shoulder. "Firefighters are saying that it was arson. It was empty." He answers the question I was silently asking myself.

"It was just a house." I say the words. "It can be rebuilt." I don’t tell him that I’m not rebuilding it. I’ll sell the land, and someone else can put down their own roots.

"Material things can be replaced," he says. "The main thing is you are alive."

"I’m alive," I say. The front door is opened and then closed. The sound of boots clicking on the floor tells me the men of the family have arrived.

They stick together all the time, and when you mess with one, you mess with all of them. I watch them walk into the room. Ethan nods at me silently while Jacob, Casey, Quinn, and Beau come in. The three of them stand side by side.

"You look good," Beau says, and I laugh.

"You always had a way with words." Jacob pushes him.

"What am I supposed to tell him?" Beau looks at Jacob and then Ethan. "You look like death."

"I feel like death,” I interrupt them. My leg starts to move out of nerves, and my stomach gets a burning sensation. It rises from my stomach to my chest and then my throat.

"There are so many things to say," I start, my finger tapping the bed. The monitors spike from the way my heart is beating faster and faster.

My mouth is suddenly dry as Ethan talks. "Just start at the beginning," he says, and I look down, gathering all the courage I have. "I don’t even know where