He took off down the path that winded through the trees, and he started yelling for her as he ran. He was running too fast to keep the pace for long, and he had to force himself to slow his gait. He had no idea how far she could’ve gotten, and he needed to get as far as she could possibly be. Yelling didn’t help his energy level, and he was getting winded quicker than he should. The panic coursing through his veins was likely sucking his stamina too. But he yelled her name, charging forward as his lungs started to burn, and his voice became hoarse. He’d not gone far, not more than a mile, but in his current state, he was fading fast.
He pushed forward, yelling, panicking, and trying like mad not to lose his mind. All he could see was the damn bluff of rocks that fell away steeply below. Shit. That was a good three and a half miles on unsteady terrain, and he wasn’t sure he could handle the fear of what he might find for that distance. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! She had to be okay. She simply had to be okay. He rounded a curve in the path, grunting as his muscles burned and his lungs did too, and then she was there.
He stopped, relief washing over him, but then he saw the blood, and he bolted toward her.
“Bailey!” The blood on her face was dry; she was leaning against a tree with one foot held up to rest with just her toes on the ground. She had another dry, bloody trail down her leg. She leaned her head against the trunk of the tree when she saw him.
When he reached her, he ran his hand down the side of her face. He wasn’t sure what to touch, what hurt, or how much pain she was in. “Darren.” She breathed his name out on a sigh of relief; he pulled her gingerly into his arms.
“Bailey, you have to tell me what hurts. What happened?”
She sighed into his chest as she snuggled up to him. “I lost my footing up near the rock outcropping, and—”
“You fell from there!” He sounded horrified.
“No. I was near there, and I was making my way up the path. The ground was muddy, and I lost my footing. I fell down the embankment. My ankle twisted pretty good, and I jarred my hand, but it feels all right. My knee’s torn up, and I hit my head on a tree.” She peered up to him. “But hey, your dog’s okay.” She tried for a small smile.
Macy was racing in circles around them, and Bailey sank against his chest again. Darren was more relieved than he thought he was capable of. “You hit your head?” He could see the scuff on her forehead, and blood had dripped down the side of her cheek. “Look at me.” He pulled back, holding her at arm’s length. He studied her eyes, looking for any abnormal movements or responses. “Any blurred or double vision?” She shook her head. “Fatigue?”
“Hell yes. I feel like I’ve been hobbling for hours.”
“If this happened at the outcropping, then you likely have. You’ve made it halfway home from there. When did you leave the house?”
She glanced away for a moment. She looked embarrassed. “This morning?” It wasn’t a question, but her voice certainly sounded as though it was. “I ran a few miles farther than the outcropping. I was actually on my way back when I fell.”
“Jesus, Bailey, that’s a long way for someone who’s out of practice and who had muscle spasms like you did just yesterday. What the hell were you thinking?” His voice caught in his throat. He knew exactly what she was thinking. Actually, she probably wasn’t thinking at all—she was seeing red when she’d taken off with Macy in tow. “We need to get you to the hospital. You need some X-rays.”
“Darren, I don’t have insurance anymore, and—”
“Well, thank God you know the doctor.” He smirked.
“I’ve really only made it halfway back from the rocks?” She looked disappointed.
“Sorry. Hop on.” He turned and lifted her to straddle his waist. It took nearly an hour to get back, and that was resting occasionally. She could put some weight on her foot, which was at least encouraging, but after twenty feet or so of trying to walk, the pain would become too much, and he’d lift her again. When the house finally came into view, she sighed.
He ran Macy inside while Bailey waited in his car, and then he took her to the hospital.
Chapter Thirty-Six
They didn’t spend much time at the hospital at all. He slipped her into radiology quickly, and she sat on a stool in one of the empty X-ray rooms as he reviewed the images on a large monitor. He toggled between the different views of her ankle, and he took his time. His face was serious, his concentration evident, and she was mesmerized at the sight of him in his world.
“Well, there’re no breaks. Sprained all to hell, but you’ll be fine.” He turned to her as he flipped the monitor off, and then his face scrunched up in concern. She was still a bloody mess, and as she watched him, he reached out and stroked his thumb across her chin. “You shouldn’t have done this. You pushed yourself too far, and the only reason you did it was because you were mad at me.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have pissed me off.” She wasn’t upset at this point, though she certainly still felt hurt by his comments that morning.
He sighed, and he studied her face for a moment. He grabbed the ACE bandage he’d placed on the counter earlier, and as he lifted her ankle to his lap, he started to speak. “Listen . . . I wasn’t trying to boot you out my door this morning. I wasn’t telling you to get lost. I wasn’t saying I hate you. I wasn’t saying anything.” He shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know what this means or what it doesn’t mean. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, and I don’t have a fucking clue how to figure it out. But I’m here, and I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just don’t know how to do this anymore.”
“This?”
“Us.” She wasn’t sure why it hurt to hear him say it. Probably because it was an acknowledgment that things were different between them. She knew that, of course, but she’d also found it very easy to let herself feel close to him after the night before.
He sat silently for a minute longer before he stood. “Stay here. I’m going to run to the pharmacy, and then we can go home and get you cleaned up.” She nodded, and when the door closed behind him, she stared at the floor, feeling confused and antsy.
He wasn’t gone long, and he came back bearing Vicodin—only a few doses worth to get her through the next couple days. Soon they were on the road, silently sitting next to one another. “Are you taking me to my house?”
He glanced to her, looking perplexed. “Of course not.”
“I can take care of myself, Darren. You can just take me home.”
“Why don’t you want to come to my place?”
“A bit of foreplay is no reason to assume I’m welcome in your home, now is it?” She was being a cheeky brat, and he glared at her for a moment. “I don’t need to come over. I can take care of myself. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted.”
“Odd you chose to come back to Savoy, then.” He was starting to match her irritation with his own, but then he exhaled deeply. “You’re coming over. I want you there. You’re going to be there. End of story.”
She relented, staring out the window for the remainder of the drive. He helped her into the house and up to his master bathroom, settling her on the side of the large bathtub. He started the shower, and he returned to undress her and unwrap her ankle. She watched as he stripped out of his clothes, and when the shower was warm, he led her into the large enclosure to sit on the built-in bench. He kneeled at her feet, pulling her foot onto his lap so he could gently start cleaning the grime and dirt from her knee. She hissed as the soapy washrag he was using grazed over the sensitive raw and open skin, and his eyes flashed to hers.