She finished applying a bandage below my left eye, then pulled back. “Sorry,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. The young paramedic—Tara, I believed she’d said—had been all business from the moment she’d entered the room seconds after me.

My knee bounced up and down, my agitation rising the longer I was forced to sit with a stranger touching me.

Seamlessly, she opened another tiny bandage and brought it closer until it disappeared from my line of sight, positioning it directly above the other. The sting was brief as the wound was covered efficiently, then she was back to rummaging through her bag.

Needing something to lean against, I tucked a pillow behind my back. My body was exhausted and preparing to shut down, yet my mind was restless.

“Try to relax, miss.” Her gaze fixed on my fingers drumming against my thighs.

Miss. There it was again. I despised the term. And relax? Right!

I stilled my hands, stretching out my fingers.

Okay, maybe I was less composed than I’d realized, but considering the day’s events it was as calm as I was capable of being. I’d been sitting there for far too long, or so it felt, and my body was buzzing in protest. I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nostrils, hoping time would offer its assistance and speed the hell up.

I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth. Why is this taking so long? It was only a few scrapes.

Unable to find any peace, I opened my eyes and watched as Tara examined my face closely before producing a smaller black kit. The overwhelming need to bolt shook my body. Not out of fear; no, I wasn’t scared. Perhaps Kurt had drained all the fear from my system. Instead, I was worried.

The strangest thought came over me. I found myself wracked with anxiety over having a disfiguring scar on my face—a reminder I’d be confronted with every time I passed a mirror or took a simple photograph, just like the one on my leg. It was such a superficial thought in the grand scheme of things, yet it was still there in my mind, front and center.

Where were my pain, anger, the need to scream and cry…anything? I felt them for Scout, but for myself, these emotions were replaced simply by a numbing void in my chest. Was that better than suffering through the emotions?

I clamped my eyes shut again and forced forward the memory of the branch slicing through my skin as I raced through the forest. The images came easy, but the traumatizing effect I expected to endure remained absent.

The muscles in my legs ached. I had run faster than I thought possible in those woods, sprinting as quickly as my feet could carry me, terrorized in the moment and severely aware of Kurt trailing behind. His menacing cackle and booming voice had ricocheted around me, reciting a horrific list of heinous acts he planned to inflict upon me if I slowed.

“I need you to stay still,” Tara said, snapping me back to the present. She took my arm and began cleaning the scrapes. “Try some deep breaths; it will help calm you.”

“I am calm!” The instant the words flew out, my head dropped and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

I couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t fair. She had been nothing but lovely, and didn’t deserve the brunt of my temper.

I straightened myself, searching for the right words. “I’m sorry, I just…need some fresh air,” I explained.

She peeked up. “I’ll try to hurry.”

“The heater in here’s been needing to be replaced,” I explained, trying for a friendly conversation. Maybe that would help pass time, as well. “It’s older than I am, and it gets to me after a while. Runs hotter than I set it.”

“I just had mine repaired last winter. Expensive beast.” She cracked a tiny smile, confirming there were no hard feelings. “Almost done.”

I rose up just the slightest to slide my clammy palms under me, attempting to remain as still as possible for her.

“All right,” she finally said, turning to toss something in the trash. “Now I need to get a better look at your stomach. Mr. West explained you have some injuries there, as well.”

I glanced up at the door and found him there, standing stoically quiet, watching with a tight frown frozen over his features. I hadn’t even noticed he was there. His eyes were on me, his lips curled into a tender but sympathetic smile that eased a few of the nerves I felt at the thought of my stomach.

How could I forget? How was it that, until that very moment, I couldn’t feel the pain of it?

“It’s nothing,” I choked out, lowering my gaze, unable to fully look at either of them.

My posture stiffened almost painfully and must have spoken more loudly than the words that had left my mouth, because Tara’s stern approach softened. She tilted her head to catch my downward stare.

“Listen, I know you want this to be over with, but I can’t leave until I confirm your injuries have been fully assessed and treated to the best of my ability.”

“Cassandra,” Logan spoke in a hard whisper.

With a relenting sigh and stiff hand, I held onto the end of the belt on the white robe Logan had covered me with earlier.

I knew from the pained expression on his striking face that he wanted to be closer instead of standing across the room, but the space was too narrow. I could clearly see anger written in his tense shoulders, and I honestly believed his pain for me outweighed my own. And even though I couldn’t touch him, there was no denying the strength I drew from him being there for me.

“Do you mind giving us some privacy?” Tara asked, glancing over her shoulder at Logan.

My gaze caught his and never strayed as he answered her, his voice grave. “I’m not leaving her again.”

“You can wait in the hall, sir.”

Their conversation faded away when I blinked, breaking our connection, my mind focusing on the belt sliding between my fingers. I finally began to feel more than agitation. The blood rippling through my veins grew louder and louder as I allowed myself to feel the tenderness over my stomach. I knew it was sore, but for the first time I was really feeling it.

I felt the glass shattering over me as I wrestled to escape my vehicle. Kurt’s vice-like grip locked around my ankle, hauling me toward him. I shuddered at the memory of the shards that covered the seat, digging into my skin.

“Cassandra.” Logan’s sweet breath brushed over my lips. “Look at me. Open your eyes.”

Are they closed?

My lids fluttered open as I lifted my head listlessly and inhaled a shaky breath. He was so close and so perfect, squatting down in front of me.

“I’ll be fine. Is Jax looking for Scout?” I asked, changing the subject while attempting a smile. But it couldn’t cover the unexpected faintness in my voice.

“Yeah, he’s on it.”

“Thank you. And she’s right, you can wait outside.” My shoulders rose. “You know—privacy and all.”

He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to my lips. “There’s nothing about you I ever want hidden from me. Besides, I’ve already seen what you’re trying to cover, and there’s no reason for that. You’re as beautiful now as you were this morning.”

My smile grew.

“I’m staying. She’ll get over it.”

“Logan, you’re so good to me.” I placed another kiss on his lips. “Please just wait outside—for me.” I gave his hand a squeeze.