Chapter 23
Zane
I call Dr. Angela Tailfeathers, who nursed us through more than a couple of concussions when we were younger, and who is also one of my mother’s best customers and oldest friends.
“What are you going to tell her?” Hope frets.
“The truth,” I promise her. “But not too much of it.”
She comes out within the hour. By the time she arrives, I’ve explained to Dax about Hope’s situation, and why we need to be careful with her—both in terms of not blaming her for what happened and protecting her location.
I fully intend for her to hide the entire time, but she refuses. “I was there when he went down, she might need to ask me about it.”
In the end, it’s Dax who provides the honest but limited explanation for what happened. “Came home unannounced, a little too quiet, apparently. Gave our new ranch hand a scare, but I’m all right.”
“He was unconscious,” Hope inserts from her perch beside the couch in his room. “That’s a concussion, by definition! He’s not all right.”
Dr. Tailfeathers takes a look at Dax’s head, then his eyes. Then she says, “Was it like that time you fell out of the tree? Or more like when you hit your thumb with the hammer in shop class?”
“The thumb,” he says readily. “You remember that?”
She sighs and pats his shoulder. “I remember every single bump and bruise you boys had.” She looks over at Hope.
“The good news is that he’s just a lightweight when it comes to shock.
I think his passing out was a vasovagal response, not a concussion.
Either way, I’m going to recommend you avoid screens for a few days—”
“Not a problem, my phone was stolen,” he says cheerfully. “I’m waiting on a new one anyway.”
“Stay off horses—”
He makes a face.
She laughs. “And get lots of sleep. Go to bed early tonight, take a nap tomorrow. Let your brain recover from its bump, or its shock, whichever it was. But I would bet money on just shock.”
Hope pulls out her phone and over her shoulder, I can see her searching up vasovagal response.
In the kitchen, the kettle starts whistling. Dr. Tailfeathers gets up. “Thank you as always for an entertaining house call. I’m going to go enjoy some of your mother’s tea now.”
As soon as she’s gone, Hope apologizes to my brother again.
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I was just so sure you were a threat.”
“I’m big.”
She worries her lower lip. “It’s not just that. I wouldn’t just hit you for that.”
“I’m sure he gave you quite a scare,” I interject.
She turns to me and nods. “He was muttering something like, where the fuck are you?”
I glare at him. “Dax?!”
He tips his head back and laughs. “Jesus, that must have been terrifying. I was looking for my gum.”
“Your gum?”
“I quit smoking a few months ago. Stress makes me want it, so I’ve been chewing a lot of gum. Couldn’t find the pack I thought I put in my pocket.”
She buries her face in her hands.
I rub her back. “It’s all right. All’s well that ends well. Baby boy here doesn’t even have a concussion.”
“It’s not funny,” she mumbles.
Dax and I just grin at each other.
“It’s a little funny,” I promise her.
He gets up and stretches his legs. “I’m going to go have some tea with Mom and the Doc. Don’t hit me when I come back. I’ll be the big guy muttering to himself.”
Hope groans again.
As soon as he’s gone, I bring up something that has been spinning in my mind. “How would you feel about Dr. Tailfeathers doing a prenatal appointment for you here?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary yet.”
“But at some point.”
She chews on her lower lip. “She was really nice.”
“She is. And we can pay her in haskap berries.”
“She’s a doctor who deserves to be paid properly for her services,” she says hotly.
“It was a joke. Once you feel safe enough to register as her patient, of course she’ll bill the provincial insurance properly.
But it’s very thoughtful of you to worry about her, and my brother, and everyone else.
” I hook my hands around Hope’s hips and tug her in against me, muttering an apology for her ears only. “My little healer.”
She twists in my arms. “That’s just trauma.”
I guess that’s part of it. The hurt we suffer can sometimes teach us remarkably useful skills. Her ex probably took advantage of that, weaponized her gentle nature and took advantage of her desire to take care of people.
It would be a shame to harden her. Her softness and vulnerability don’t need to be weaknesses if she has a strong protector who can shield her from predators like Derek Hitchkoff.
The line I need to carefully walk is that I don’t want her to ever think of my protection as a need to control her.
“Thank you for trusting me to guide how we took care of this today,” I whisper against her lips.
She tightens her arms around my neck. “I’m just glad I didn’t hurt him.”
“That’s on me for not communicating to him the need to not sneak into his own damn house. I saw his truck come up the drive on the trail cam, but I thought he’d announce himself. What a dumbass.”
“But a dumbass with a good sense of humour.” She smiles and kisses me. “And a very good big brother.”
“Mmm… Show me how good you think I am before Bellamy wakes up from her nap.”
Hope laughs. “Oh, the drama she’s missed!”
By the next morning, Dax is right as rain and up at dawn, because he went to bed extra early.
“I’m just going to wait for my new phone to arrive, then get back on the road,” he announces to the full kitchen.
“What do you need? What can I give you?” Hope flutters around the kitchen. “Your mom and I made some fresh yogurt two days ago.”
“Yogurt is the devil’s load. I’m not touching that shit.” He clears his throat when I growl at him. “No offence, Hope.”
“None taken. Peanut butter toast?”
“What happened to bacon?” He grins at me. “Yogurt and berries and peanut butter toast. This house is getting girlie in my absence.”
“Dax Kincaid, breakfast foods aren’t gendered,” Luna snaps.
“The fuck they aren’t,” he teases.
She isn’t impressed. “Dax!”
“What?”
“Language. There is a child in this house.”
“I thought I was the child in this house?” He glances around. “Where is the rugrat?”
“She’s gone back upstairs to jump on your couch now that you’re out of your room,” Hope says dryly.
“So she didn’t hear me.” He shrugs.
I roll my eyes. “You still said it in front of a guest.”
“Hope isn’t a guest, she’s a ranch hand who almost murdered me.” He slides her a sideways glance all the same. “Sorry for being crude, though.”
“Thanks.” She gives him a sweet smile. “The yogurt is really good, actually. You should try it. It’s really thick and creamy, with a nice tang.”
He gags, his whole body recoiling.
She winks at me. “I fit right in as a ranch hand, eh?”
It’s not the official title I would give her, but yes, she does fit in perfectly.