“Let’s go,” Paige said, tossing her to-go cup in the trash before moving toward the door, turning impatiently when Frankie didn’t move. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
“An ER physician?”
Paige rolled her eyes because everyone knew that though she was a qualified pediatrician, she was still paying off her state-granted tuition by working in ER. “Your smart mouth doesn’t intimidate me, Ms. Bryce,” she drawled. “Room Four. Stat,” she ordered, before disappearing through the door.
Frankie closed her eyes, her boots rooted to the spot. It wasn’t that she was being deliberately difficult. She was just too tired to move. Oh, yeah, and every breath reminded her of her flying trapeze stunt. Moving required skills she’d temporarily misplaced.
A second later the door opened again and Paige stuck her head inside, scowling when she saw that Frankie hadn’t moved. She narrowed her gaze and gave her cellphone a peremptory waggle. “Now,” she snapped.
Frankie frowned. “Does Ty know how annoying you are?”
“Of course he does,” she announced cheerfully. “It’s one of the things he loves about me.”
Frankie rolled her eyes because Paige was right. Ty did love her. His feelings for the pint-sized Attila the Hun were so obvious that it made Frankie just a little bit jealous.
She wanted someone to look at her like that.
Sighing, because now she was feeling sorry for herself, she followed Paige down the passage into an empty ER room.
“Okay,” the doctor said with her hands on her hips. “What hurts?”
Finding levity in the situation, Frankie snorted and reached for the zipper tab on her jumpsuit. “Maybe you should ask what doesn’t hurt...and go from there?” Maybe she should have gone home before she tried this because there was no way she was going to be able to dress again without bawling like a baby.
Paige pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and studied her. “Lemme guess. You acted rashly during that mountain rescue and you’ve hurt your back.”
“What mountain rescue? How do you know it’s my back?” Frankie demanded irritably. “And I’m never rash—at least, not any more—and not unless I need chocolate. Then all bets are off.”
Paige arched her brow. “It’s the way you’re holding yourself.” She leveled a mildly irritated yet softly understanding look that made Frankie squirm. “And I know you hate being a burden because you harbor what you think is a super-secret need to make amends for your past, Frankie. So you were wild and rebellious.” She shrugged impatiently. “Big deal. We all do dumb stuff when we’re kids.”
Frankie spluttered. “That’s ridiculous. I bet you—”
But Paige interrupted with, “You’re an excellent paramedic—the most advanced one on the coast, actually—but maybe you should think about saving yourself.”
“What does that mean?” Frankie demanded with a scowl.
“It means no woman is an island. It means that you should accept help once in a while. Now would be good...while we’re both still standing.” Paige huffed out a laugh when Frankie rolled her eyes. She reached out to peel the jumpsuit off Frankie’s shoulders and had barely got it halfway down her arms before sucking in a sharp breath.
“Ooh, that’s nasty.”
“What?” Frankie demanded, craning her neck at the tone in Paige’s voice. “What?”
“You really should have had this seen to ages ago,” Paige scolded, and gently pulled Frankie’s wet undershirt away from her back. Frankie must have made a sound because Paige cursed. “Did this happen before or after your Fearless Frankie stunt?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do, since everyone else knows about it,” Paige groused. “And how come I have to hear via the grapevine that you made a superhero save, anyway? I thought best friends told each other everything?”
Not everything...because there were some things a person didn’t share. With anyone. Especially things that made Frankie cringe with shame whenever she thought about them.
Paige huffed and eased Frankie’s bloodied tank top over her head, leaving her in a black sports bra, jumpsuit pooled at her waist. She made a sound of exasperation at what she’d uncovered. “I know we joke about it but, Frankie, really, taking a flying leap off a ledge? What the heck were you thinking?”
Wincing as Paige gently probed a particularly tender spot, Frankie demanded, “Who told you about that?”
“So it’s true?”
She sighed irritably. “It’s complicated... Ouch. That hurts.”
“Not as much as it’s going to,” Paige said shortly. “But seriously? It’s like you have a death wish or something.” Frankie opened her mouth to object but Paige beat her to it with a snapped-out “I’m busy here.” But after a couple of beats she said almost absently, “There’s bruising, a couple of lacerations and some bad grazing. What really happened?”
Frankie gave a negligent shrug. “I got caught between a rock and a hard place.” Paige sighed and began cleaning Frankie’s injuries. “Wanna tell me about it?”
“No,” Frankie said.
At the same time a deep voice drawled from the door, “Yes, Francis, let’s hear all about it.”
She closed her eyes wearily and thought, Not now. Not ever. Or at least not while she was feeling exhausted and raw and couldn’t think of a snappy comeback.
She’d hoped to avoid the lecture she knew was coming but she should have known he would eventually hunt her down. He’d hunted terrorists for a living, for God’s sake. What had made her think she could continue to evade him?
She’d only managed to avoid him since the night of her eighteenth birthday because he’d wanted it that way. She’d wanted it too, she reminded herself, mostly to forget that the boy she’d idolized had called her a selfish willful brat who didn’t think about how her actions affected others. He’d also called her reckless and told her to grow up.
Then he’d left town. Getting as far away from her as possible.
Well, she was cool with that. Really cool, she thought fiercely. She just wished he’d stayed away.
Turning, she eyed him with what she hoped was cool disinterest, ignoring the fact that even after the long night, he looked bigger, badder and hotter than ever.
While she looked like a complete mess.
Go figure.
“This is a medical examination room,” she said flatly. “Only medics allowed.”
One dark brow rose in silent challenge. “Want to call Security, Francis?” he drawled with a hint of amusement that did nothing but raise her blood pressure. And not in a good way.
“No,” she snapped, because he had awesome SEAL skills no security team could match. “I don’t want any witnesses when I use a scalpel.” Her unspoken, on you, hung in the air between them.
It had genuine amusement lighting his eyes and curling his mouth in a smile that had her gritting her teeth in aggravation. Arrogant BAB, she snarled inwardly, using the acronym she and Paige had thought of one night when they’d been a little tipsy. But “badass boy” fitted Nate like a pair of snug boxer briefs. Except seeing him now, it was clear he was no longer a boy.
“You thinking of taking me on, Francis?” he drawled smoothly, his gaze hot and intense one moment, dark and unreadable the next. The lightning-fast changes left her confused and more than a little irritated.
“You