Page 115 of Rags's Awakening
“What the fuck do you have to say?” Crew Cut yelled.
The door opened and a man in scrubs walked in. He glanced at all of them before fixing his gaze on the two officers. “Sir, this is a hospital with sick people and worried family members. You cannot carry on like this. We can hear you clear down the hallway. I reviewed the report, and it doesn’t appear that anything is out of the ordinary with Mr. Reynolds.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Crew Cut asked, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth.
“I’m the ER doctor in charge. I’ll have to ask you to leave. You can conduct whatever this is at the station another time. I have to speak with Mrs. Reynolds,”—the doctor’s gaze flicked to Rags—“and to Mr. Reynolds’s brother about private matters.”
“We’re done here,” Rags said. “Come on, Kimber.”
“You’ll be hearing from me again,” Crew Cut said.
Rags glanced over his shoulder. “I’d be disappointed if I didn’t.”
The three of them stepped out of the room.
Rags inhaled thecrisp air as he crossed the parking lot. Kimber told him she’d call if anything changed in Throttle’s condition. The ER doctor had admitted him. At least he was stable and getting the attention he needed. He revved the engine, thenblasted out of the lot. He’d text Banger and Hawk with an update, but he didn’t want to go to the clubhouse even though the brothers would be expecting him. All he wanted was to see Casey.
It was well past one in the morning. He stood on her porch and pressed the doorbell. Footsteps muffled inside, followed by a short silence, then the door swung open.
And there she was. Soft. Warm. Real.
He stepped inside and pulled her into him. Her arms wrapped around his neck without question, without hesitation. For the space of a long breath, they just looked at each other. Then he kissed her—not hard, not rough. Just deep and claiming. Like he needed the heat of her, the pulse of her, the solid reality of her skin against his. Like he needed something steady.
Later, thin wisps of light from the streetlamp filtered through the blinds, casting long skeletal shadows across the bedroom floor. He held her close, her weight a grounding pressure against his chest as she nestled into him. The familiar scent of vanilla and caramel hugged him.
For a long time, the only sound was the jagged rhythm of his breathing slowly leveling out.
“Are you okay?” Casey whispered, her voice a faint vibration against his skin. She didn’t move, didn’t pull away to look at him. She just stayed there, a steady heartbeat he could hold onto.
He stared at the wall, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second. “Throttle’s in the hospital. I can’t say anything more.”
“I know.” She burrowed deeper into him.
“One of these days, you’re gonna have to tell me how you know.”
“I will. How is he?”
“Stable.”
She pressed a kiss to his chest. “He’s alive. And you’re here.”
“I’m here,” he rasped, tucking his chin over her head. “Right here.”
“And so am I,” she whispered.
Rags pressed his mouth to her hair and let the noise of the night finally fall away. For the first time since the blood hit his hands, the tightness in his chest eased.
He still didn’t know everything about her. But he would.
Holding her close, he let sleep take him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The full mooncast soft-edged shadows on Cedar Street, highlighting the tips of the blue spruce trees. A crisp breeze shook the pine needles, a few cones dropping and rolling across the sidewalk. Warm yellow light spilled from the paned windows of Elsa’s Bakery, pushing back the darkness of the surrounding shuttered shops. As customers exited, the scent of caramelized sugar and warm dough trailed behind them.
“They’re still open,” Jessica Carlson said to her two friends.
“I thought they’d be closed for sure,” Abby said, her cheeks pink from the cold.
