Dirty Little Secret

“I’m on my way.”

Fifteen minutes later, I fly through the automatic doors, my heart jackhammering in my chest as I scan the waiting area, looking for Stella.

“Sir, can we help you?” the nurse behind the desk asks, right as I spot my girl.

“I’m good,” I say with a tight smile, as I head toward Stella.

She’s sitting in a wheelchair, looking smaller than ever, squished between the chairs Gabe and Zach are occupying on either side of her.

“Samson, you’re here.”

I kneel down beside her. “If you’re here, I’m here, Luna. Are you in pain?”

Sniffling, she nods.

“What happened?” I ask, pinning both men with a hard glare.

Zach cuts his eyes to his boyfriend. “Ask him.”

I stand, focusing all of my attention on Gabe, not caring one bit that he could probably crush me single-handedly—which is saying something, I’m not exactly puny. “What. Happened?”

“Samson,” Stella whispers, but I keep my eyes locked on the man in front of me.

“We were goofing around and she fell.”

“Gonna need more details.”

“Fine.” Gabe rolls his eyes. “I was chasing her. It was an accident.”

I’m ready to tear him a new one when Stella reaches over and takes my hand. “Leave him be. I was antagonizing him. It really was a stupid accident.”

Like always, her touch soothes me; which is bullshit, because I should be the one comforting her.

“Make some room,” I say, not caring which of them moves, as long as I end up next to Stella.

Gabe stands with a resigned huff. “Take a seat, caveman.”

“Gladly.”

“Be nice,” Stella begs, her blue eyes brimming with tears.

“I’m sorry, Luna. I know I’m being an asshole, but seeing you hurt… fuck.”

Gabe grumbles something under his breath, but Zach jabs him in the ribs with his elbow. “Ignore him. When I got a concussion last year during a soccer match, he acted just like you.” He tips his head to the side and his long braids follow. “Maybe worse.”

“Excuse me for loving you.”

“I love that you love me,” Zach says, patting Gabe’s knee. “And I love you too. But quit giving Samson shit for acting the same way you do.”

“Whatever.”

Zach exchanges a glance with Stella. “Alpha men.”

She giggles and lays her head on my shoulder; then and there, I decide Zach’s all right in my book.

“Did they say how long?”

“Haven’t said shit,” Gabe replies, still surly.

“How long have y’all been here?”

“We called right when we got inside.”

“It could be a while then,” I say, glancing around the busy waiting room. “Y’all can go if you want.”

The two men trade looks.

“We’ll stay,” Gabe declares.

“Or,” Zach hedges. “We could grab food for everyone since we didn’t get to eat.”

“We’ll do whatever Sunshine wants.”

Stella yawns and snuggles in as close as the armrests between us allows. “Y’all can go if you want. I hate the thought of keeping y’all here.”

“We don’t mind.”

“Seriously, Gabe. It’s fine. Samson’s got me. Y’all should go back to the campsite or out for dinner, something better than sitting here in this freezing-ass hospital.”

“Are you sure?” Gabe asks, looking down at her.

“Positive.”

He stares hard down at Stella, before finally relenting. “Text us updates.”

Stella nods her agreement and the two head out, leaving us alone to wait.

“Are you hurting?”

“Yeah.” She clutches the hem of my flannel. “It’s throbbing.”

“You want me to see if I can get you something? Some Tylenol?” I glance down at her ankle. “It’s pretty swollen.”

“I hope it’s not broken.” The despair in her voice guts me.

“Twisted, sprained, or broken, I’ll take care of you, Luna.”

She tips her head back to look up at me. “Promise?”

As gently as possible, I lean down and press my lips to hers. “I swear.”

Stella falls quiet as we wait to be called back, but I keep murmuring to her, reassuring her that she’s going to be okay and that I’ll take care of her.

“Stella Cartwright?” We both glance toward the sound of the masculine voice.

“Come on, Luna, let’s get you fixed up.”

I stand and wheel her toward where the nurse is waiting, clipboard in hand.

“Right back this way,” the nurse says as we approach, leading us through a set of double doors and down a short hallway. “Let’s get you up onto the bed and then we can go over everything.”

He steps forward to help Stella, but I beat him to it, gently lifting her out of the chair. I brush a kiss across her forehead before placing her down on the small mattress.

“Okay, then,” the nurse says, smiling down at his clipboard. “My name’s Liam, and you are…”

“Stella Cartwright.”

“Perfect.” He proceeds to ask a whole host of questions, from her date of birth to her last menstrual cycle. “Alright, that’s everything. Let’s get your foot elevated and I’ll be right back with an ice pack and something for the pain, okay?”

As soon as Liam steps out of the room, Stella reaches for me. “It hurts,” she sniffles, trying to keep the tears at bay.