Chapter 6
FINN
I wasn’t sure how long I was out, but when I came around I was flat on my back and a gloved hand was patting my face.
I opened my eyes a crack to find Cameron hovering over me, as pale as the snow I was lying in except for two hectic patches of color on his cheeks, saying, “I’m so sorry, Finn! It was an accident!”
I eased myself up onto one elbow and let out a groan as a throbbing at the base of my skull made itself known.
My ass also protested, although less loudly than my head.
I pointed at Cameron with a shaking hand and rasped out, “Did you just hit me?” I still couldn’t quite believe it, although the aches and pains that were surfacing from hitting the pavement were quickly letting me know that yes, I had been hit by a car.
“It was an accident,” Cameron repeated, eyes wide.
“Was it an accident, though?” a loud voice said suddenly, cutting through the hush. “Because last night at the diner I heard you say you were willing to kneecap Finn to win!”
I squinted in the direction of the voice and recognized Brady McAllister, a guy I worked with. He had his arms folded over his broad chest, the flannel he was wearing straining under the bulge of his muscles, and he was glaring at Cameron.
Wait. Was he saying Cameron did this on purpose?
That made no sense. Maybe I’d hit my head harder than I’d thought.
I let out a low groan, and Cameron’s gaze swung back to me.
“See?” he said, a little hysterically. “He’s awake and he’s fine! If I’d hit him on purpose, I would have made a decent job of it!” His mouth snapped shut, and I could tell the exact second he realized how that had sounded.
“So he did mean to hit him!” someone whispered, and a ripple of excited chatter ran through the crowd. Apparently, the bake sale was no longer the most exciting thing happening in Sugar Hollow.
“That’s right,” Brady continued, raising his voice and tilting his chin in my direction. “They argued over the competition, and Cameron flat out said he’d have to cheat to win. And later I heard him say Finn would never see him coming—and he was standing next to his car when he said it!”
The whispers increased to a steady buzz, and a couple of people who I thought might have been at the diner last night nodded their agreement.
Even though I was new to town, I already knew that Brady was a man with a lot of opinions that he liked to share loudly with anyone who would listen. And even lying there in a haze, I knew I didn’t want him starting a rumor that Cameron had run me down on purpose.
“What?” Cameron let out a weak laugh that carried an edge of panic. “No, we were joking around! Finn and I are friends, honest! I just… the snow, it was hard to see…”
Judging by the hard stares being directed at him, I expected the pitchforks would be handed out any minute now.
“I barely touched him!” Cameron protested, his face going from parchment white to flushed. I could only imagine how he must be panicking, and I had a momentary pang of sympathy.
A hand landed on my shoulder and I looked up to find Sherri standing there. “Do you need anything? Should I call the paramedics?”
“Thanks, but I’m good,” I said. Was I good? I guessed I’d find out soon enough.
“You poor thing, Finn.” Sherri glared at Cameron, lips pursed, and he shrank under her gaze.
“It was an accident,” he said again, casting me a pleading look.
“It’s true,” I said. “I stepped in front of his car like an idiot.”
Sherri turned her attention back to me. “Are you sure?”
“Cameron would never try to run someone down,” I said. “That’s far too dramatic for someone as sensible as him.”
Cameron’s lips pressed together in a thin line, but Sherri nodded and said, “You know, you have a point.” She tilted her head, observing me, and asked, “Are you sure you’re not hurt, hon? You’re mighty pale, and you passed out there for a minute.”
“I don’t think it’s serious.” I dragged myself to a sitting position and ran a hand over the back of my head, wincing at the sharp pain. When I pulled my fingers away, they were wet and sticky, and my stomach sank when I saw they were stained with blood.
“Oh, you’re going to the hospital,” Sherri said firmly.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I said faintly.
She arched an unimpressed brow. “I’ll get my car.”
“But the sale.” I gestured around me at the scattered cookies. I was finding it hard to think straight, but it suddenly seemed vitally important that the bake sale went ahead. The animal shelter was depending on it!
“I’ll take you to the ER,” Cameron said quickly. I guessed he was trying to kill the rumors that we were rivals, and seeing some of the hard looks he was getting, I didn’t blame him.
When he offered me a hand, I grabbed it and tried to stand. It didn’t go well. A wave of dizziness washed over me and I found myself collapsing against Cameron, clinging to him the same way a little kid learning to ice skate might cling to their mom—scared and a little desperate.
Cameron’s arms curled around my waist, supporting me, and I let out a shuddery breath, my face resting against his shoulder.
“Finn? What is it?” Cameron asked, his voice close to my ear.
“Just dizzy,” I said. I could feel the blood draining from my face as my stomach lurched worryingly.
Cameron tightened his grip, and then he was steering me carefully toward the passenger side of his RAV4.
Sherri darted to the car and opened the door, and I leaned forward with one hand on the frame and paused.
“Um…” Cameron’s passenger seat was loaded with cookies, and so was the back seat. “Should someone take those inside?”
Cameron ran a hand through his hair. “Shit. Yeah. And someone else will have to man my table.”
“I’ll find someone,” Sherri said, retrieving the box from the front so I could finally sit down. “You take Finn to the ER.”
I eased into the seat, and the ache in my ass as I sat told me I was going to have a hell of a bruise back there.
It didn’t take long to unload the rest of Cameron’s baking, and while we waited I closed my eyes, taking slow, deep breaths. The next thing I knew someone was tapping my cheek. When I opened my eyes Cameron was watching me, a worried crease between his brows. “Finn? Did you pass out again?”
“No,” I said, “I was just resting my eyes.”
The furrow grew deeper. “Are you sure?”
“I promise,” I said. “To be honest, I don’t even think I blacked out when you hit me.”
His face fell, and I was struck with a pang of sympathy.
“When I stepped out in front of a moving vehicle, I mean,” I amended.
The crease in Cameron’s brow smoothed out. “Right? Who does that?” The corners of his mouth quirked up uncertainly, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to joke about this.
I managed a wobbly grin despite the pain in my head and my ass, and said, “A Flatlander?”
Cameron snorted and some of the tension left him. “Let’s get you looked at.”
We drove to the ER over in Burlington and Cameron found a spot near the doors, easing forward into the space at roughly the speed of a glacier. It occurred to me then that he was probably just as shaken up as I was. But nobody had bothered to check if he was okay, had they?
It made me sad in ways I couldn’t quite articulate.
I managed to stand on my own, even though my movements were stiff and somehow every ache seemed to have intensified on the drive here.
When we got inside the nurse took my details and I answered a bunch of questions.
There were only a couple of people waiting, but one of them was a guy who’d shot himself in the hand with a nail gun, so he got seen first. We had to wait for a while but then I was given a hospital gown to change into and ushered through to a room.
Cameron followed me, waiting outside while I changed.
He knocked and stepped inside, and I said, “You don’t have to stay here with me. ”
“I kind of do,” he said. “No offense, but you smacked your head on the sidewalk and you were close to passing out when you stood up. But I bet you’re planning to tell the doctor it was nothing and you’re fine so you can get out of here.”
I grimaced, and it was only partly because of the thumping in my skull. I’d been planning exactly that, hoping to avoid an overnight stay. But then, I’d just been hit by a car, so maybe my judgment shouldn’t be trusted.
A doctor came into the room, and okay, maybe this was the universe compensating me for missing the bake sale because he was young, and he was cute.
He was taller than me, he had dark, floppy hair that fell over his forehead, and he was wearing a pair of round wire-rimmed glasses that somehow amped up his sexiness quotient by about a hundred.
I wondered if he was single. Or gay. Or both.
“I’m Doctor Anders,” he said, flashing me a warm smile.
I smiled back and fought the urge to giggle and twirl my hair around my fingers. Since I didn’t have hair long enough to twirl, that was probably the head injury talking, right?
Dr. Anders glanced down at the chart. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“Uh, I got clipped by a car, and I guess I hit my head when I fell?”
He hummed and pulled out a penlight and shone it in my eyes. Then he had me follow his finger as he moved it and asked me a bunch of questions, giving me encouraging nods when I got the answers right and scribbling on his clipboard.
“Any other symptoms?” he asked. “Did you pass out or throw up? Any slurred speech, dizziness?”
“Um,” I said. I honestly wasn’t sure.
Cameron spoke. “He blacked out for a few seconds when he hit the ground, and he was dizzy when he first stood up. No vomiting or slurred speech, though.”
“And do you have any other injuries other than the head wound?”
“Um, I landed pretty hard on my tailbone. I think it’s just bruised, though.”
The doctor hummed and scribbled and looked at me over the top of his round glasses with a hint of a smile. “Would you like me to take a look?”
“I think so, yeah.”
What? There was no head injury in the world that would make me turn down the chance to show a cute guy my ass.
Cameron made a weird choking sound, but when I glanced his way, he was busy examining the linoleum, or maybe the toes of his boots. Something down near his feet was fascinating, anyway. “I’ll wait outside,” he said with a speed that was almost insulting.
And then he ducked through the curtains surrounding the bed with a speed that was definitely insulting.
The doctor looked at me expectantly, and I turned and faced the bed, then bent over as my gown fell open at the back.
Gloved hands eased my boxer briefs down, and Dr. Anders let out a low whistle.
“That’s going to be some impressive bruising.
” He ran his hands over my tailbone, his touch brisk and professional, and nothing at all like the medical porn I’d watched.
I hissed when he hit the tender spots, but after examining my ass further and getting me to move around to check my mobility he said, “Just bruised. But we can do an X-ray to be sure if you’d like. ”
“No thanks,” I said, shaking my head—which sent a stabbing pain racing through my skull.
I let out an involuntary groan.
“Sit back on the bed,” the doctor said, donning a fresh pair of gloves.
And then he shone that fucking light in my eyes again and examined the cut on my head.
“You don’t need stitches, but I’m going to say there’s a chance you have a mild concussion,” he said.
“I’m not going to admit you, but you will need someone to stay with you.
Do you have a friend or relative who can watch you overnight? ”
Shit. I was pretty sure nobody I worked with wanted to babysit my ass all night. “Um.”
The plastic rings rattled as Cameron pulled the curtain aside. “I can do it.”
I blinked at him.
“You’ll need to bring him back immediately if he gets worse. I’ll give you a list of what to watch out for,” the doctor said. “And if you’re happy to do that, then he can go home with you.”
“You don’t have to do—”
“It’s fine,” Cameron said, cutting me off. “I owe you.”
I hesitated. It felt like I was asking a lot.
But you know what else was a lot? The bill for an overnight hospital stay. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He gave me a crooked smile. “Besides, half the town thinks I tried to Mad Max you. This will go some of the way to convincing them I’m not the bad guy.”
And how could I argue with that?
Once I was dressed and they’d issued me some painkillers, Cameron led me out to his car, clutching the sheet of instructions the nurse had given him like it held the secrets of the universe—or possibly all his forgotten internet passwords.
I guessed Cameron Walker was taking me home after all.
Just not the way I’d imagined.