Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Wren turned around, nausea pooling in her stomach.
Christian stood on the back deck of the main house, one hand on the rail near the steps. She didn’t know how long he’d been there—she only knew he’d been there long enough.
Guilt flooded her. “Christian—”
“You don’t think Mason would be safe with me?” Hurt and accusation filled his voice.
“That’s not—” She fumbled to find her words. “It’s more complicated than that.”
His hands fisted at his sides. “You still don’t believe me, do you?”
Nobody answered him—which was an answer within itself.
He stormed down two steps, his eyes red. Wren couldn’t tell if he was about to cry or yell. “This isn’t how it was supposed to be. I thought you’d be happy I was home!”
Wren’s throat tightened as emotion flooded her. She could only imagine how he was feeling right now. The disappointment. Maybe even the betrayal.
“We’re just trying to figure out what happened to you,” Nora said.
“No, you’re trying to figure out if I’m lying!” His nostrils flared, and accusation stained his voice.
“Christian.” Marlowe started toward him. “Nobody thinks you’re lying—”
“She does.” He stared at Wren.
Wren’s face went hot. “Christian, it’s complicated—”
“I don’t care what you say.” He jammed his fisted hands into the air. “I’m not going to a doctor. You can’t make me!”
“You are,” Nora said. “Tonight. I’m sorry, but you are. We should have taken you right away.”
He drew in several shallow breaths as he stared at them, his eyes shooting lasers. “They’ll ask me things. They’ll ask me where I was, and I don’t know. I don’t know. And when I can’t answer, they’ll say I’m lying!”
“Nobody’s going to—” Marlowe started.
“What if they take me somewhere?” His voice broke. “That’s what happens, isn’t it? I just want to stay with my family! It’s all I’ve ever wanted!”
“Honey, listen to me.” Marlowe moved to the bottom step. “It’s a doctor. That’s all it is. I’ll go with you. I’ll sit right there the whole time, and if anybody says one word about taking you anywhere, they’ll have to come through me first.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can—”
“You can’t.” He said it loud enough that Bo scrambled up off the porch boards.
Then Christian turned and stormed up the steps toward the house. He stopped in front of the storm door with his back to them and stood there as if composing himself.
His shoulders came up.
“Christian—” Wren started, desperate to explain herself.
Before she could finish, he drew back, and his fist slammed into the door.
Wren heard a crack. Then the glass came out of the frame in three pieces and shattered on the porch.
Marlowe screamed.
Christian drew his hand back and looked at it as if it belonged to someone else. Blood ran down his wrist and off his elbow.
Nora reached him and had her hand clamped above the cut in under a second. “Wren, get towels and the first-aid kit off the back of the toilet.”
Nobody moved.
“Now!” Nora yelled.
Wren darted inside, careful not to step on the broken glass. A few moments later, she came back with an armful of towels and the kit, just as directed.
Nora took a towel and pressed into his wound. “Don’t look at it. Just look at me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Christian’s voice cracked, and his eyes filled with moisture.
“I know,” Nora murmured.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Christian, look at me.” Nora stared at him. “Not your wound.”
“I didn’t—”
“I know. We’re going to get you taken care of.” Nora glanced at her sisters over the top of his head. “He needs stitches. This one’s not a butterfly bandage. We go to the hospital, now, and I’m not asking anybody’s opinion about it.”
Behind Wren, boots hit the gravel at a run. Nash came around the corner of the house and stopped when he took in the porch.
“I can drive,” he offered.
Christian’s head came up. “I don’t want him—”
“Christian.” Nora didn’t raise her voice. “You’re going. It’s no longer a debate.”