Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel)(11)

Carter pulls his gown over the top of his cast, and Dr. Lyngstad steps next to him and inserts the shears at the top of the cast, which reaches several inches over his knee and extends all the way down almost to his toes. Carter grimaces as the doctor bears down and the cast begins to split down the middle. After every few cuts, the doctor readjusts, cleaning away bits of plaster, until the cast falls onto the floor.

I get my first look at Carter's leg, and tears spring to my eyes. I duck my head, embarrassed. My emotions have always laid close to the surface, but he doesn't need to see me blubbering right now. It's obvious that the injury to his leg wasn't just a break. The skin from the middle of his calf up to the top of his kneecap is red and rippled, clearly only recently recovered from serious burns. For some reason, this visible proof of his injuries and how he must have suffered is hitting me hard.

"I warned you about the smell!" Dr. Lyngstad says merrily.

I clear my throat to get rid of the lump there. "I think I have some perfume in my purse," I say with a smile, raising my head.

"We'll have to do with plain old water first," the doctor says, wetting a paper towel and gently brushing it over Carter's leg. "This skin is still delicate." I watch Carter's face as his leg is cleaned. His expression is impassive as ever, and I wonder what he's thinking. Do the burns look better or worse than he expected? "Skin looks like it's healing nicely," the doctor says as he tosses the towel, "though you should see a specialist to make sure. I'm sure a dermatologist could help you with some cosmetic options, too, if you care about that. Now, I'm going to ask you to shift toward the end of the bed here, and raise your leg to touch my hand."

They go through a series of exercises together as the doctor tests his strength and range of motion. "Good. I'd like you to start physical therapy immediately. You need to counteract the stiffness right away so that you regain full mobility." He turns to a prescription pad and starts writing. "If you have time today, you can head straight over to our facility here, it's just down the hall. But all in all, you're healing well!" he finishes, patting Carter on the back.

Carter doesn't even smile at the news. "Thanks so much, Dr. Lyngstad. We really appreciate it," I jump in. Maybe it's not my place, but I'm confused by Carter's behavior.

After the doctor leaves, I close my eyes again as Carter gets dressed. "How does it feel to put weight on it?" I ask as he walks to the door.

"Like it's weak," he grumbles. I follow him back out to the hallway and stop as he turns toward the elevators.

"Why don't we go to do the physical therapy now?" I suggest. "Are you busy or—"

"It doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?" But he's already headed down the hallway the other direction. I sigh in exasperation and head after him. We ride back down to the garage in silence. After I unlock the car with the remote, he heads straight for the passenger door and closes it behind him. I stare at him for a moment, and then knock on the window. He jumps a little, as though he forgot I was there. I open the door and hand him the keys. "You wanna drive?"

"Oh," he says, looking at the keys in surprise.

"Look, I obviously don't know what you've been through, but it's pretty clear you don't care about getting better all that much. Which is sad. Especially for your mother and sister. But since you can walk, you can drive, so that means I'm not your driver anymore." I raise my eyebrows at him expectantly, and am relieved when he smiles and grabs the keys.

A second later we're pulling out of the garage. He rolls the windows down and I watch him out of the corner of my eye as we stop at a light and he turns his head into the breeze. He looks peaceful for a second, but when the light changes his expression becomes serious again.

"Woah!" I exclaim as he takes a sharp and sudden right turn. "You can follow that road straight back, you know."

"I know," he says, glancing in the rearview mirror. "But we're being followed."





Chapter Eight



After a few more sharp turns, Carter is satisfied that we've lost the car that's been tailing us. As we head back toward the house by a different route, though, I start to worry. I never actually saw the car...is it possible his experiences have left him paranoid? Seeing danger where there isn't any?

Back at the house, I watch him cautiously from a window as he walks around the perimeter of the property. I'm more worried that he's overexerting himself on his leg than I am about any car tailing us. What the hell's he doing anyway?

I shake my head and decide that if he's going to hurt himself then I can't stop him. I walk back into the kitchen and fix myself some lunch. Thirty minutes later, he reappears just as I'm finished eating.