“Place her here,” the doctor said, and after that, everything was cold and pure agony. He poked and prodded me thoroughly to assess my wounds before cleaning them up. Amanda stayed with me the whole time, holding my hand. She didn’t say a word. Neither did I. No one spoke except for the doctor, who asked me questions as he checked me over.
When his assessment was done, he’d determined I had a few sprains from the impact and a significant cut inside my mouth, which is why I’d been coughing up blood. But the cut had stopped bleeding now, so nothing more was needed. He bandaged me, gave me a painkiller, and wrapped a clean blanket around my shoulders before Thomas helped me to the car. Amanda never let go of my hand.
Back in the vehicle, I kept a death-grip on her hand and asked Thomas, “Where are we going?”
“Back to your friends’ place.”
Amanda squeezed my hand. “Are they okay?”
“They’re there. They’re fine.”
“Thank god,” she whispered. More tears slipped from her eyes.
I wanted to reach up and wipe them away, but my other arm was wrapped in the blanket, and the medication made me so sleepy.
Then she asked, “And Carter?”
“He’s coming,” Thomas said after a moment.
“Good,” she said, anger clouding her face. “Good. Whoever did that, they need to be found.” She looked Thomas in the eye, and a dark message passed between them.
I pulled on her hand, needing to get her attention. A thought had occurred to me. When she glanced down, I said, “Don’t call your boyfriend.” He couldn’t come. He couldn’t know.
She nodded. “I know. I know, Emma.” She looked back to Thomas. “I mean it. Find who did this.”
“We will.”
When we arrived at Noah’s place, I limped up the stairs. Noah and Theresa waited for us just inside the door.
“Oh my god,” Theresa cried. “Is she okay?” She looked at Amanda. “What happened?”
Amanda shook her head. “Not yet. Questions can be answered later. Thomas, help her to the bedroom.”
I shook my head. The painkillers had fully kicked in, but I wanted answers, just like all of them. I needed to know what happened. “No, no.”
He helped me down to the bed, and I sat up.
“Lay down, Emma.” Amanda was beside me. Her hand went to my shoulder, but she jerked it back before it touched me. It formed a fist, trembling, then she forced her fingers open again. Her palm barely grazed me. She was scared to touch me. “You need to rest.”
I wasn’t Mallory. I wanted to growl
at her, but a mewling sound came out. I shook my head. Thomas placed a blanket over me, but I threw it back. I wouldn’t sit there like a victim. I wasn’t helpless.
“Emma!” Amanda stood, panicked. “Stop. Please.”
I kept shaking my head, pushing myself to the edge of the bed. “It’s a few sprains and a cut. I’m fine.”
“You haven’t seen yourself, Emma.” Theresa spoke up from the doorway. “You look like you were the bomb. Trust me. She’s not overreacting.”
I was fine. The doctor had said so, and I shoved myself upright. I shouldn’t walk on my own, but I would if I had to. “I need answers.”
Theresa sighed. “Fine. We can all talk in the living room. Can you help her to one of the couches?”
He looked back down at me, torn, but he did. When I sat down, Amanda sat next to me.
Theresa stood back, wringing her hands. “I need to do something.” She looked at Amanda. “I have no idea what to do. What do I do?”
Amanda leaned forward and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Do you have broth or tea without caffeine? I think you could heat some up for her. That would help.”