Chapter 9 Autumn
AUTUMN
The nurse checked everything: my temperature, blood pressure, and heart rate.
I’d already been jabbed with a tetanus shot, which felt fair considering whatever ancient bacteria had hitched a ride in with that branch.
My calf was hot and swollen, the skin flushed and angry red.
The wood fragment was still lodged deep, a reminder of just how close things had gotten.
“The fever’s concerning,” she said, scribbling something on her clipboard. “I’ll have the doctor come and take a look. He’ll clean it and get you stitched up.”
“Okay,” I said.
Dom sat beside me, his fingers laced with mine. When the nurse glanced between him and the curtain, the professional cue for him to step out, I didn’t let go. My hand tightened around his. I wasn’t ready for him to vanish, not even behind a plastic sheet. I needed him visible and within reach.
She hesitated, then gave a small nod and stepped out to find the doctor.
Maybe it was the fever, or the crawl through hell to get here, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Stiff-Neck was still coming. Out in the wild, trees and terrain gave you clues. In here, with just curtains, fake walls, and too much furniture, my brain filled in the blanks.
I shifted, trying to find a position that didn’t feel like my body had been steamrolled. My shoulder ached, my calf throbbed, and my skin buzzed with leftover adrenaline and exhaustion. A few damp strands of hair clung to my temple, but before I could lift a hand, Dom brushed them back.
“Hey,” he said, impossibly gentle. “Why are you so restless?”
“I’m not,” I said. “I just—” I turned toward him. “Don’t leave?”
The words felt ridiculous. They went against everything I’d promised myself about standing on my own.
But he smiled and squeezed my hand. “Not going anywhere.”
I’d never been clingy and never liked needing people too much. But Dom didn’t feel like other people. He felt like the exception.
Boys got weird when you beat them at something. Boys cracked jokes instead of stepping up. Boys didn’t carry you for miles through the wilderness just to make sure you didn’t die.
Dom wasn’t a boy.
And hell, if this was what being cared for by a man felt like, it was no wonder some women were willing to risk it all for love.
I didn’t know how much time had passed before the nurse returned with the doctor.
“Sorry, sir,” she said, giving Dom a look that was half protocol, half apology. “We’ll need a little space for this next part.”
We both knew what that meant.
Dom had seen me soaked and half-naked in the woods.
He’d undressed me when I couldn’t and cradled me when I was freezing.
But that had been under trees and in shadows, with survival leading the way.
This? This was beneath cold fluorescents, surrounded by hospital tiles.
Vulnerability here felt exposed, not necessary.
My fingers slipped from his. He rose slowly, as if leaving took effort.
“I’ll be right outside,” he said.
“I’ll be fine,” I said determinedly.
“Call if you need me,” he added, and then the curtain hissed shut behind him.
The doctor rolled in on a wheeled stool, flipping through my chart. He was probably in his mid-forties, windworn and sharp-eyed. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, his gloves snapped on.
“Autumn, I’m Dr. Menzies,” he said. “How’re we doing?”
I gave a smile. “Fine.”
He clicked on a penlight, checking my pupils. “What happened?”
“I slipped.”
“Slipped?” he echoed.
“Trail was slick. Storm hit.” I didn’t elaborate.
“Sorry to hear that,” he replied. “Montana doesn’t care what month it is. The mountains throw tantrums whenever they feel like it.”
He gestured to my shoulder. The nurse eased the gown off, coaxing my arm free. Pain lit me up, but I bit it back with an exhale.
“I hear this was dislocated?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“And your friend reset it?”
I answered with a short nod.
He let out a low whistle. “Clean work. Still painful, though?”
“A little,” I admitted, wincing as he probed my shoulder joint.
“No instability. No nerve impingement. He spared you a longer recovery.”
I already knew that. Still, having it confirmed only deepened the way I saw Dom.
The doctor moved to my ankle next, rotating it gently.
“Sprained. But nothing major. Just rest and keep off it.”
Then he peeled the blanket up to my hip and inspected the length of my leg.
“Looks isolated to the calf,” he said, more to the nurse than me.
The bandage tugged at the skin as he removed it. When the wound came into view, his mouth drew into a flat line.
“I’ll need to stitch this up.”
The nurse swabbed around the gash while the doctor injected a local anesthetic. Cold spread under my skin before it gave way to numbness. But I could still feel the tug and shift of his tools.
I hovered somewhere between turning my head away and sneaking a look, caught in the space between curiosity and dread.
He eased the branch out. It was longer than I’d let myself imagine, streaked dark with blood. It clinked onto the tray.
“Lucky it stayed in one piece,” he said. “You didn’t try to pull your leg free, which was smart. And whoever lopped this off the tree for you deserves a damn medal.”
“You can tell that to the man outside,” I said. Dom had probably heard every word.
The doctor bent closer with a magnifying visor. “No fragments left, thankfully. But you’ve got an infection starting.”
No surprise there.
“We’ll get you on IV antibiotics.”
Great. More needles. But I felt too shitty to argue.
“All right. Let’s close this up.”
His hands worked fast, stitching layer after layer.
“How bad’s the infection?” I asked.
“Not aggressive, but enough that I’m keeping you here.”
“For how long?”
“A few days.”
The nurse moved efficiently, inserting the IV. Cool liquid flowed into my veins. My head swam a little, but the fever buzz began to ease.
When they finished, the doctor gave me a final note of instruction. “Rest, drink plenty of fluids, and let the antibiotics do their thing.”
I let my head sink into the pillow. Now all I needed was Dom back in here.
A few minutes later, the curtain shifted, and there he was. His eyes flicked over me first, checking and assessing, before settling on the IV drip.
“Is it bad?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Nothing crazy. Just a couple of days here. I’ll live.”
Once everything was cleared, they wheeled me to a real room. Dom walked beside the gurney the whole way. Then he hung back, sitting next to my bed.
“You still feeling needy?” he asked, wearing that crooked smirk no sane girl could resist.
I grabbed a clean towel from the table and lobbed it at him, fighting a grin.
“Hey!” He laughed, catching it. “I’m not complaining.”
“Well, I am. What happened to ‘I’m not going anywhere, Autumn.’? That one actually had charm.”
He sobered a little. “You look better, that’s all. But if you want me to stay, just say the word.”
“No, it’s fine,” I muttered, instantly annoyed at myself. “Go do…whatever it is you need to do. I’m good.”
He studied me for a beat. And yeah, he knew I was full of it. “Okay, tough girl. I’ll grab us some food. You need to eat.”
Right. He wasn’t leaving me. My alpha nanny was feeding me. How the hell was I supposed to be mad at that?
I nodded and watched him go, the door clicking shut behind him.
With no one left in the room, my mind slipped free and headed straight back to where it had all begun.
Stiff-Neck.
He hadn’t hesitated to kill me then. By the time he pulled the trigger, he’d probably already worked out where to dump my body. And he’d made it clear, he’d use the people I loved to draw me out.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but the memory played on an endless loop behind my eyelids.
If he figured out who I was, I was dead.
No doubt about it.
Shit!
My social media. If that bastard found a way to match my face, social media would’ve been the first place he scoured.
What had I posted? What breadcrumbs had I left behind without even thinking?
I’d set my accounts to private a long time ago, but still, my profile photo was out there. My banner too.
A sunrise from my last trip to Alaska? Probably wouldn’t offer any meaning or clue.
A close-up of me at dinner with Jimmy? That was another issue. It was one of the few pictures where I didn’t look like I was dodging the camera, and it was on my profile.
I needed to change that. If only my phone weren’t toast.
But would it be enough to keep Stiff-Neck from ever finding out who I was?
Enough to keep Mom and my friends clear of the fallout?
I pressed my hands together and prayed like hell that it was.
People said to trust your first instinct. Mine told me Stiff-Neck wasn’t just dangerous. He was calm and calculated, and he had reach. Going to the cops would trigger movement. And once he felt cornered, he’d come for me.
Sometimes it was smarter to leave things buried. I wasn’t about to shine a light on myself or drag anyone else in. He could keep his money, gold, or whatever illicit treasure he was hoarding. I just needed to avoid him.
Something in the IV must’ve finally knocked me out, or maybe it was just my body giving in. Either way, it wasn’t long after I came to that a knock sounded on the door.
“Autumn, can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
Dom walked in carrying a bowl of steaming hot soup, and for a second, I wasn’t sure what was sparking my lust—the food or the man serving it. After days of running on sheer willpower, the soup smelled downright sinful.
“It’s from Buffaloberry Hill’s harvest shop,” he said, setting it down on the tray table. “Best in town. Handmade croutons, too.”
I stared at it. Then at him. “You’re bribing me with soup.”
“Bribing?” He scoffed. “I’m offering you an experience.”
I lifted a brow but didn’t say anything.