Page 27 of Chaos (The Serenity Ranch #2)

Her siblings suffer simultaneous heart attacks.

His heart does something else entirely.

At first, it’s like everything moves in slow motion.

My nephew tears into the paddock, evading his mother and his uncle and everyone else who tries to grab him with a spryness no three-year-old should possess.

It’s as if everyone is moving through sludge, too slow to catch him.

To stop him from rushing at Ruin so quickly, to hush the high-pitched laughter, to prevent all the things that startle the fragile horse beside me.

And then, it’s all quick.

Ruin rears.

Alex screeches to a halt directly in the path of his descending hooves.

I don’t think. I just move. I cover his body with mine, and I do it just in time.

The pain of a hoof colliding with my back, of my knees slamming against the ground hard, is nothing compared to the frightening shriek of the little boy bundled against my chest.

With my eyes closed, I don’t see the flurry of movement around me, but I hear it.

I know someone is trying to calm Ruin down, someone else is yelling, more than one person is running our way.

Even before I open my eyes, I know who rips Alex from my arms, I know who’s screaming at me, asking what the fuck is wrong with me in the same breath she asks her bawling son if he’s okay.

“I wanted to ride the horsie like Lottie,” Alex babbles in between sobs, and I almost start sobbing too.

My legs feel like they're made from cement as I struggle to my feet for the second time in as many minutes. “Lux—”

“Don’t touch him.”

The hand I reach out towards my nephew abruptly retreats. As do I when my sister spits, “Get away from him right now.”

I stumble backward. Right into a solid chest, into two hands that curve over my shoulders, that I shrug off almost the very second they land.

“It was an accident.”

“It’s always an accident with you,” she snaps at me even though I’m not the one who spoke; the man behind me did. “What’s it gonna take for you to think before you do something, huh? Alex could’ve—”

“I know,” I croak, the words scratching my throat. “I didn’t mean to. I was just—”

“Trying to get your way? Trying to get attention? Both ?” My sister makes an ugly, ugly noise. “What’s fucking new, Charlotte?”

“ Hey .”

I flinch at the harsh bark. And again when the same mouth it came from brushes my ear, the same voice sounding a hell of a lot softer as it murmurs, “Are you okay?”

No. Not even a little. “I’m fine.”

Hands touch my shoulders again, skimming across the top of my back and leaving prickling fire in their wake despite the layers separating us, lingering just above the spot where Ruin’s hoof landed. “Let me see.”

I shakily repeat, “I’m fine.”

Finn kisses his teeth. “You’re hurt.”

Who fucking cares? I did it to myself, didn’t I? It was my fault. And it’s better me than Alex, so I won’t complain.

No one else will either.

No one follows me when I walk— run —away. I wait until I’m in the barn, until the office door closes behind me, before letting my shoulders drop from where they’re bunched up, almost touching my earlobes.

Sniffing every breath, I dig the heels of my hands into my watery eyes.

I won’t cry. I don’t get to cry. I made a decision, and now I deal with it.

It doesn’t matter that I didn’t mean for it to happen.

It did, and now they’re definitely going to get rid of Ruin and Alex is probably traumatized and my sister hates me again, everyone is going to hate me again, when things were just starting to be fine.

With the dizzying sound of my blood rushing in my ears, I don’t hear the door re-opening. I don’t realize I’m not alone until someone gently grabs my arm and I flinch, spinning around, spitting before I even recognize who it is, “Don’t touch me.”

Finn holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay.”

Gaze on the ground, I sniff. “Go away.”

He does no such thing. He steps forward, stooping to try to get in my line of sight, but I refuse to let him.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

I roll my bottom lip between my teeth to stop it from wobbling.

“Alex is okay.”

I bite down so hard, the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

“He’s alright, Lottie.”

Slowly, I nod. I ask more than I repeat, “He’s alright?”

“He is.” Finn shuffles forward an inch. “Are you?”

“Uh-huh.”

Another step has me taking one back, has me shaking my head.

“I’m not gonna touch you,” he promises in the same slow tone I was using with Ruin only minutes ago. “I just want you to lift your head for me. Can you do that?”

I hesitate before giving in, feeling the tender muscles of my upper back stretch uncomfortably.

“Move it side to side.” He demonstrates what he means and when I copy without incident—without wincing too hard—he nods, satisfied. “I wanna check your back, okay?”

He waits for my stiff permission before circling around me and gently peels my shirt away, guiding the flannel down my arms to expose my back. He hisses between his teeth. “Gonna have a hell of a bruise, princess.”

I know. I can feel it brewing, a dull, hot throb between my shoulder blades.

Finn moves away. I hear a drawer opening and I know what he’s grabbing even before it floats in my line of sight, a small bottle sitting in the palm of his hand. “Can I put some of this on?”

I don’t know what it is, if it’s his voice or my shaky state of mind or if I just really am in that much pain, but I nod, even though I dread the brush of his fingers against my skin.

When it happens, I wince; partly because it hurts, mostly because I don’t like being touched at the best of times, but when I’m upset, it’s borderline unbearable.

It makes my skin crawl, it makes me want to cry even more than I already do.

Finn doesn’t touch me for any longer than is necessary. When he’s done, he tugs my shirt back up before loosely cupping my biceps over the material. He says my name, all fucking sombre, and for some reason, that’s what gets me. That’s what has the first tear breaking free.

It tracks a lonely path down my cheek, burning my lip where I bit too hard. “I didn’t mean to.”

A harsh breath brushes the crown of my head. “I know.”

My voice cracks. “I keep messing up.”

Finn doesn’t say anything. What can he say? It’s not like he can deny it. I’m a disaster. A walking, barely living disaster.

“I would never—” I sniff. “I love that kid, Finn.”

“I know you do.” The tips of his boots nudge the heels of mine.

What I think must be his chin tickles the top of my head, a barely tangible pressure.

I know it’s his chest at my back, rising and falling so steadily compared to my erratic, short breaths.

For longer than my frazzled mind can keep track of, he stays there, not saying anything, not quite hugging me, but just…

there. Existing. Waiting until I—consciously or otherwise, I’m not sure—slow my breathing to match his. “I’m gonna take you to the ER, okay?”

When I start to argue, he repeats himself, except this time, he doesn’t ask. “I’m taking you to the ER. You need to get checked out.”

I don’t want to. I don’t care to. I… “I don’t wanna go back out there.”

I feel his sharp inhale as much as I hear it. Just like I feel him let it go, feel it brush the back of my neck—feel his forehead, I think, drop to my crown for a single, fleeting second.

“Okay.” That loose grip on my upper arms tightens briefly, squeezing before releasing. “I’ll bring my truck around back.”

An hour after I drop my ass into an uncomfortable plastic chair, my phone vibrates for approximately the eight-hundredth time, and the matching chair to my left creaks. “You should answer that.”

With a huffy grunt and a touch more vigor than necessary, I turn my phone off instead.

The last thing I need right now is some more verbal spanking.

Slouching with my arms crossed over my chest, I nibble on my thumbnail and read the same sign on hand-washing like I didn’t memorize the thing in the first five minutes here. “You don’t have to wait with me.”

A jean-clad knee nudges my own. “If I leave, you’ll be about two seconds behind me, right?”

I kiss my teeth, but I can hardly be insulted when he’s right. I can still snark, “You gonna come in with me too? Hold my hand?”

“Yes,” comes Finn’s dry reply, his face deadpan when I peer at him from beneath the brim of the baseball cap he silently handed me before we got out of the car—a shield for my red-rimmed eyes. “Then I can make sure you don’t just tell the doctor you’re fine.”

I don’t even have it in me to shoot him a nasty look. I am, after all, decidedly not fine, but it’s not in the way Finn thinks. It has nothing to do with the way my body is aching.

I want a drink. I want a drink so badly, I can barely breathe. I can’t think about anything else. If Finn wasn’t so resolute about waiting with me, I would be on my way to the nearest bar, or already in one.

For the first time in a long time—or maybe this is just the first time I can admit it—I feel like an alcoholic. Like someone who has a problem. Like someone who needs to be at a meeting more than an emergency room.

Smoothing my palms down my thighs, I tap my fingers against my knees a few times before lacing them together. I should find one. A meeting. I’ve fucked up enough already today; I can make one good decision. But…

But . I don’t want to. It’s as simple as that.

Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back against the wall behind me and start to recite the serenity prayer in my head.

I’m halfway through a second round when a low murmur and something brushing my thigh—a pinky finger, I realize when I crack open an eye—interrupts me. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

My head lolls to one side, towards the big body mimicking my position, angled a little in my direction. “Do what?”

“Your running mount superhero trick.”

Superhero . Ha. Pretty sure right now, I’m the supervillain, if anything. “I went through a trick-riding phase.”

“Yeah?”

I shrug. “I’m not good at it or anything. That’s pretty much all I can do.”

Not that I didn’t try to do other things. Half the crap I attempted are the very reason I’m so accustomed to falling off horses—if Grace hadn’t started refusing to be my spotter and following me on rides to make sure I didn’t attempt anything alone, I probably would’ve broken a bone or two.

“It was hot.”

The loud, bewildered noise that bursts out of me draws more than one eye. Slightly quieter, but no less baffled, I splutter, “What did you just say?”

Finn can’t quite look me in the eye, but other than that, he doesn’t seem at all bothered about repeating himself.

I, on the other hand, am bothered. I’m… well, mouth hanging open and eyes saucer-wide, I think I’m a little fucking flustered.

Wetting my bottom lip, I face forward again, leaning forward too.

Forearms resting against my thighs, my head drops with a shake as a tiny, baby smile curls my mouth.

“You just liked seeing me fall on my ass.”

The crappy piece of furniture struggling to accommodate that honed, strong body whines as Finn shifts. “No, princess. I really didn’t.”

Feeling even more restless than I did a minute ago, I sit up again, jolting when I slump and find a thick arm across the back of my chair. When he doesn't move away, neither do I, and as we sit there in still silence, waiting and waiting and waiting, he starts to absentmindedly mess with my hair.

I stare at his hand. His huge hand, all dark, smooth skin and blunt fingernails and faded ink I can’t quite make out when he moves a certain way and flashes his palm. “How hot?”

Those fingers flex. “I don’t wanna answer that.”

“Swooning hot or, like, porn hot?”

That hand moves to yank my cap down over my eyes. “Shut up.”

“Oh, c’mon. You brought it up.”

“And now I regret it deeply.”

“You can regret it all you want, but you can’t take it back. You think I’m hot.”

“I thought you were hot before. Now I think you’re a little insane too.”

Naturally, the nurse working the emergency room chooses that exact moment to call my name.