Page 232 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

I carry him to the truck and set him carefully on the passenger seat, like the right placement could change the outcome.

Then I drive.

The road into town is dark and familiar, but it feels wrong tonight. Too long. Too empty. Too slow.

Ranger's breathing is shallow. Every few seconds I glance at him, and every time I do, something in my chest tightens harder.

"Hey," I say, voice low. Controlled. "Look at me."

His eyes blink, sluggish. Still there.

I put my hand on him at the red light, steady pressure like I'm keeping him tethered to the world.

"You don't get to leave," I tell him, quieter now. "Not after everything."

My throat burns. I swallow it down.

The clinic light is on when I pull into the lot.

Still on.

Like the building's been waiting for us.

I don't park straight. I don't shut the door gently. I don't care if anyone hears the tires scrape the curb.

I carry him to the glass front door and hit it with my fist, hard enough to sting, hard enough to make the sound match what's happening inside my body.

Footsteps.

A figure.

The door unlocks.

A woman stands there under fluorescent light, hair pulled back, sleeves rolled up. She's not wearing a lab coat. She looks tired, like someone who's been working long past when they meant to stop.

Her eyes drop to Ranger and sharpen instantly.

No hesitation. No fear. No "what happened?" first.

Just action.

I step inside, and for a second the air feels too bright, too clean, too normal for what's in my arms.

Her gaze lifts to mine.

Whatever control I've been holding onto, it's costing me.

"Help him," I say, voice low, stripped down to the only thing that matters. "Please. Help him."

She doesn't ask my name.

She reaches for Ranger.

"Follow me."

I let her take him, and the second his weight leaves my arms, the emptiness hits me like a punch.

I follow her anyway.