Page 74 of Slaughter
Dr. Brennan moved to my ribs next. “Lift your shirt.”
I did, slowly, gritting my teeth as the movement pulled at bruised muscles and broken bones. The doctor’s hands were gentle but thorough as he pressed along my ribcage, feeling for fractures.
“Deep breath,” he instructed.
I tried. The pain was immediate and vicious, stealing the air from my lungs and making my vision blur.
“At least three broken ribs,” he said, stepping back. “Maybe four. Hard to say without an X-ray, but given the bruising and the way you’re breathing, I’d say three for sure. You’re lucky they didn’t puncture a lung.”
“Lucky,” I repeated flatly.
“Relatively speaking.” He crouched down, pressing his fingers against my lower back. I flinched, a sharp, nauseating pain radiating through my kidney. “Badly bruised kidney. You’re going to be pissing blood for a few days, maybe longer. If it gets worse, if you start running a fever or the pain becomes unbearable, you need to get to a hospital immediately. Understood?”
“Yeah.”
He stood, pulling off his gloves and tossing them into a small trash bin near the bed. “You’re a mess, Mr. Moore. But you’ll live.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a prescription pad, scribbling quickly. “Painkillers. Take them as directed. They’ll help with the ribs and the kidney.”
He held out the slip of paper.
I stared at it for a moment, then shook my head. “I don’t need them.”
Hope moved before I could blink. She crossed the room in three quick steps, snatched the prescription from Dr. Brennan’s hand, and turned to glare at me.
“You’re taking them,” she said firmly.
“Hope—”
“No.” Her voice was quiet but unyielding. “You have three broken ribs, a concussion, a broken nose, and a bruised kidney. You arenotgoing to tough this out like some kind of martyr. I will make sure you take these meds, Chapman. Don’t test me.”
Digger snorted from across the room. “Damn, brother. She’s got you whipped already.”
I shot him a look that could’ve melted steel. “Shut the fuck up, Dig.”
He grinned, completely unbothered. “Just sayin’. Julie would’ve loved her.”
The room went silent.
I turned my glare on him, my hands curling into fists despite the pain it caused. “Digger.”
“What?” He shrugged, still grinning. “It’s true. Julie would’ve taken one look at Hope and said, ‘Finally, someone who can handle your stubborn ass.’”
Stella smacked him upside the head. “Read the room, idiot.”
“Ow! What? I’m just—”
“Being an insensitive jackass,” Stella finished. She looked at me, her expression softening. “Ignore him. He doesn’t know when to shut up.”
Dr. Brennan cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the family dynamics playing out in front of him. “Well. I’ll leave you to it, then.” He picked up his bag and headed for the door, pausing to look back at Hope. “Make sure he rests. And if anything changes, fever, worsening pain, difficulty breathing, call me immediately.”
“I will,” Hope said. “Thank you, Doctor.”
He nodded and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
For a moment, no one spoke. Hope stood near the bed, clutching the prescription like it was a lifeline. Digger leaned against the wall, looking vaguely sheepish. Stella watched me with the kind of knowing expression that made me think she saw far more than I wanted her to.
And then the door opened again.
Reaper walked in, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. His eyes swept over me, taking in the bruises, the blood, the way I was sitting hunched over to protect my ribs. His jaw tightened.
