She then leaned forward and looked at the elbow that was closest to her, putting her body slightly closer to mine.
That was when I saw it.
I couldn’t express the rage that rocketed through me at seeing a ring on her finger.
At knowing that she was engaged to another man.
A man that, supposedly, had been my friend, but another man none the less.
“Hey, you okay, Malachi?” Frankie asked softly.
It took me a long moment to realize that she was addressing me.
Malachi.
The name still didn’t sound right.
She paused. “Riel. Are you okay, Riel?”
My mouth twitched.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I admitted.
Or, at least, I should be.
I wasn’t.
But she didn’t need to know that.
She hadn’t been wearing that ring when I’d seen her the other day.
I wanted to pull it off her finger and throw it into the nearest trashcan.
Instead, I forced myself to sit still and stop being a bitch.
“Is this it?” she asked, moving her gaze to the spots of black that was all over my lower back.
“Some road rash on the opposite side,” I finally admitted.
“You need to take the shirt off so I can see the area affected,” Frankie said, sounding professional.
I’d rather slit my own throat.
But, when Captain Morgan shot me a glare, I could do nothing else but what he asked.
I’d originally been intending not to go to the hospital at all. I was going to go home and pretend like today never happened. Treat my wounds and go on about my business.
But then Captain Morgan had heard that I was hurt from Jonah, and he’d forced me to be seen.
According to company policy, I didn’t have a choice.
Liabilities, or some bullshit.
I pulled the uniform shirt off with quick jerks, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t see the state of my body and immediately become disgusted.
That was a naïve hope, though.
She’d take one look and I’d see the pity start to fill her eyes.
Alas, I did what I was asked to do and removed my shirt, Kevlar vest, and my undershirt.
When I was sitting there, topless and exposed, I could feel the weight of the stares on my body.
I didn’t flinch, though.
Instead, I stayed there, still as a statue, and let them all get their fill.
“Are we going to clean it up or what?” I snapped when the silence went on too long.
Captain Morgan looked away as if he’d been burned.
Frankie jumped as if I’d just electrocuted her.
“Oh, yes,” she said as she walked around the back of the gurney.
I knew the moment that she saw.
The jagged, torn and ruggedly healed flesh.
There were slashes. Shallow cuts. Indentations. Raised pieces. You name it, it was there.
Lucky that it was just the skin and fatty tissue affected. Your muscles and bones were not affected in the least.
I fucking hated with a passion hearing that doctor say how fucking lucky I was.
“Road rash,” she said. “It’s not too bad. Gonna hurt tomorrow, though.”
I didn’t doubt it.
But it wouldn’t be worse than the pain on the rest of my body.
Temporary pain I could deal with.
The pain that I lived with on a daily basis thanks to whatever fucked up hell hole I’d stayed in? Yeah, that was a much different kind of pain.
“So, what happened to have the kid arrested?” Frankie asked, sounding engrossed in what she was doing.
At first, I thought she was asking about my scars, but then she gently dabbed at the road rash around my right kidney with a piece of gauze.
“A man was arrested,” I said, remembering what I’d heard Yao talking about when I’d come inside to wash off my arms. “He was shot a few days ago, and they brought him in for questioning.”
Frankie’s eyes met mine, and she knew instantly what I wasn’t saying.
Yes, it was the same man that she’d reported on just the day before.
Her eyes flicked to an older doctor who was watching Frankie work with a frown on his face, then back to me.
The older doctor, who I assumed was Dr. Cromwell, had been watching her from the nurses’ station since Frankie had walked into the room.
I would’ve closed the door had I thought it would keep him out.
“That’s no good,” Frankie finally said, her eyes intense and weirdly focused on me. “Let me go grab the supplies and get this cleaned up. See what we’re working with.”
I didn’t protest her sudden departure.
Nor did I protest when Cromwell turned and crowded Frankie when she got to a door that said ‘supplies’ on it.
I did clench my teeth when they both disappeared behind the door.
“What was that about?” Captain Morgan asked.
I flicked my gaze to him. “What was what about?”
“The hesitation to take your shirt off,” he said.
I rolled my eyes.
“The hesitation is that I’m scarred, and I don’t enjoy getting pitying looks from beautiful women,” I finally said. “What’s it to you?”