Branded(64)

By the time I helped move the injured biker, Collin and Finnley were back down from CT. I wanted to leave immediately and go to Phina, but my best friend clearly needed a little support. He was visibly shaken even though Finnley was still awake and talking both of our ears off about the accident. I stared at the huge bandage over her forehead, noting most of the blood had been washed away by one of the nurses and memorizing the irritated look on her face as she complained about the hospital food she would have to eat for the next twenty-four hours. I would much rather commit this face to memory than the one of Finnley unconscious and pale with blood covering almost every inch of her.

“Thank you for being there and making sure Collin didn’t beat someone’s ass,” Finnley tells me.

Collin looks away sheepishly and I laugh, patting him on the back, figuring he must have come clean with her about his behavior at the scene. I try to keep the mood in the room light and purposefully avoid telling either one of them about what Dax told me. They’ll find out soon enough when he comes in to question them. Might as well give them a few moments peace before the shit hits the fan.

“Go easy on the guy,” I tell her. “He’s a macho man and I don’t think he liked the fact that he couldn’t go in and save the day. Feel free to call me your hero any time you’d like.”

Collin punches me in the arm as Finnley laughs, quickly stopping to hold her hand up to her head. “Uuuugghhh, get me some pain killers already. This headache isn’t going to heal itself.”

I reach over on the nightstand and grab the TV remote, pressing the red call button for the nurse.

“Relief will be here shortly, Crash,” I tell her with a smile.

She closes her eyes with a groan and rests her head back on her pillow. “Get that nickname out of your system right now because you are never uttering it outside of these walls.”

“Whatever you say, Crash,” I repeat with a laugh.

The nurse comes in with some Tylenol and lets Collin know that they’re going to be moving Finnley up to her own room in just a few minutes. Collin looks at me expectantly and, as much as I want to follow them upstairs, there’s somewhere else I need to be.

“I need to leave. I’ll come back later to check on you guys, okay?”

Finnley swallows the Tylenol and hands the empty cups to the nurse before looking at me.

“Is she okay?” Finnley asks softly.

Even though she’s got a concussion and a massive head wound, Finnley didn’t miss the absence of Phina in the room and I’m sure she wonders where she is. I don’t want to tell her that she’s probably drowning in guilt right now and I’m scared to death about what that’s going to do to her, so I just shrug.

“Yeah, just a little shaken up at seeing you such a bloody mess, Crash,” I tell her with a forced smile. “I’ll go find her and bring her back to see you.”

Collin perches on the edge of Finnley’s bed and starts running his fingers through the mess of her hair. She curls up against him and closes her eyes again.

“Tell her to bring me a cheeseburger. I’m not eating any fucking hospital food,” she grumbles.

I laugh as I walk up to the bed and kiss the top of her head, bumping my fist with Collin’s before I leave. He calls my name as I pull the curtain back.

“Thanks, man. I owe you a lot for what you did today. You saved my girl,” he tells me, trying to clear his throat to keep the emotion out of it.

I just nod at him as I leave, hoping I can save my own fucking girl, as well.



After taking the elevator up to Phina’s office and finding it dark, I placed a quick call to Jackson and found out that he took her back to her place. When I pull into the driveway, I find him sitting on the front step.

“I secured the house before she went in. After that, she told me to get the fuck out and slammed the door in my face,” he explains.

I thank him as I head inside and softly close the door behind me. Checking the first floor and not finding her anywhere, I head upstairs and see a light shining under Phina’s bedroom door. I slowly push open the door and find her sitting on the floor with her back against the bed and her knees pulled up to her chest.

I quietly make my way over to her side so I don’t spook her. Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut, one hand holding a cigarette to her mouth and the other flicking a lighter over and over, and she’s clearly very deep in her own head. When the hell did she start smoking?

Squatting down in front of her, I gently place my hand on her knee as she takes a deep drag of the cigarette.

“Baby, what’s going on?” I ask quietly.

She opens her eyes when she exhales the smoke, but doesn’t look at me. Instead, she stares at orange glow burning at the tip of her cigarette and continues to flick the lighter.