Page 7 of Rear View

Ryah

The guy was huge, towering over me with broad shoulders and a densely muscled chest—the super-hot kind of muscle that came from use. The arctic blue of his eyes pierced me, but there was a depth there. Like they’d been etched with a thousand stories.

He smelled of a decidedly male musk and the hint of a cold-started engine. His arms were solid bands where they hooked under my back and legs. My face heated when I slipped my arm around his neck, and he lifted me from that ice-cold ground like I weighed nothing.

I’d never felt tiny next to a man before. Afraid and inferior in every physical way, yes, but never tiny. And I couldn’t explain why, but I liked it.

His steps were easy when he aimed for his Jeep, while Zoya grabbed my bag and scurried alongside us.

Some beast of a racing car sat strapped to the trailer he towed.

The thing was a neon green, black and purple hatchback, its wing double tiered and huge.

Decals with logos from a bunch of companies I’d never heard of covered the hood, roof and doors.

“So,” I said, unable to stop myself, “this is what tall people see.” I did not just say that? Except I had. Maybe I was concussed.

He barked a laugh.

“What hospital are you going to?” Zoya demanded.

“Edgewater General. It’s closest,” he answered.

His friend climbed into the back seat while Z popped the front passenger side open for us.

“What’s your name, stranger?” she asked in that What name do I give the cops if my bestie goes missing? sort of way.

“Xavier Bosch.” Ducking, he set me into the seat so gently, I barely knew he’d done it.

I bit my lip, my body warming.

“And your friend back there?”

Said friend stuck his head between the seats and offered a salute. “Alec Hawkins.”

Zoya tore her phone from her pocket, raised it and snapped pictures of both of them. Scurrying around the front of the vehicle, she got another of the plate. She stabbed a finger Xavier’s way. “Thank you for this, but if anything happens to her, I will cut you.”

He raised his hands in surrender. I wanted to laugh, but the pain in my stomach held me back.

That and my brain was too addled to think straight.

Not that I was scared, because for some reason I couldn’t explain, I just…

wasn’t. Regardless, if Xavier fell out of line, I had no doubt his testicles would end up on Zoya’s key ring.

“Don’t move,” he told me, “I’ll get your belt.” His ice-colored eyes held mine like he asked permission.

“Okay.” I blinked, surprised at the immediacy of my response. I didn’t know where it’d come from, but nothing in me alerted. No panic. No adrenaline spike. I was weirdly calm.

He grabbed the strap, then pulled it around me, his chest brushing mine when he clipped it at my hip. I sucked in a low breath and shivered. Why had that felt good?

“Cold?” he asked.

“I’m alright.”

The frown that pulled his brows was deep. “That true?”

A knot twisted my chest. Muscle memory told me to lie. That he was a stranger. My bizarre reaction or not, he could be trouble. And for some reason I’d have to look deeper at when I wasn’t suffering a potential head injury, I decided to be honest.

I shook my head. “No.”

That frown settled and he shrugged out of his jacket, baring his tattoo-covered arms before he set it over me. A small moan escaped my lips when his heat soaked deep into my skin. He swallowed hard, then tapped his knuckles on the roof and headed around the car.

Zoya tucked my bag down by my feet, eyes so wide, they practically bulged when her attention glided from Xavier to me.

“Excuse me, miss.” The security guard, whose name tag read Stan, scurried closer.

“I need to get your information before you leave.” He had short black hair, a goatee, soft onyx eyes, and I guessed he was in his early fifties.

He looked kind enough, but a face meant nothing, and the idea of sharing anything personal with him had my throat closing over.

Zoya slid in, cutting me off from Stan. “I’ve got this.” She gave me an eager smile. “I’ll come as soon as I’m done.”

“You don’t need to,” I told her.

She rolled her eyes and pressed a peck on my cheek. “Don’t be an idiot.”

I didn’t deserve her. “Good luck on your exam.”

“Girl, please,” she taunted, then closed the door.

The Jeep dipped when Xavier climbed in, his leather seat creaking under him. He filled the vehicle, making it seem smaller for his presence. But again, I wasn’t afraid.

Considering I was hunted by a stranger—a stranger who could’ve been anyone —shouldn’t there have been something? Weird. Notably weird.

“That car you got back there is kinda strange, Xavier.” The second the words were out, the heat of a blush burned my cheeks. What the hell was wrong with me?

Alec snickered from the back while another laugh rumbled from Xavier’s chest before he said, “We drive rally.”

I pinched my brows together.

His grin deepened when he dropped the e-brake and moved the shifter into gear, steering us away. “We race.”

“Both of you?”

“I’m his co-driver,” Alec put in.

My face twisted, because I had not one clue what that was. I adjusted my position, and a stabbing pain shot through my abdomen. I pressed my hand over it as I sucked in a sharp inhale, and the pain shifted to my ribs. Leaning forward, I curled into a fetal position.

“You good?” Xavier brushed my elbow, his voice thick. When I didn’t respond, he pushed, “Talk to me, darlin’.”

Darlin’. Why did the word sound so good? That stabbing started again with a vengeance. “It hurts.”

His tattooed forearm flexed when he gripped the wheel harder. “Just pain? Or you havin’ trouble breathing?”

I tested it on another breath, then shook my head and slumped farther forward.

“We’re close now. We’ll be there soon.” Several turns and a few minutes later, he coasted us to the ER drop-off.

My hand trembled as I sat up and reached for the handle. “Thank you, Xavier.”

His head snapped my way, and those etched, arctic eyes collided with mine. “You ain’t goin’ alone.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Nah. I’m not just ditchin’ you here.” Despite my agony, something hot settled inside my chest as he climbed out, stalked to my side and opened the door. Leaning past me, he eyed Alec. “You wanna take the car to the crew?”

“Can do,” he said, then slipped out and into the driver’s seat. “I’ll swing back to get you when I’m done.”

Xavier nodded.

“Feel better, Ryah,” Alec said.

I offered a feeble smile. “Thanks.”

Unclipping my seat belt, Xavier threw the strap of my bag over his chest before he cinched his hold around me again, and he carried me away. The rumble of the Jeep sounded as Alec took off and then it faded into the distance.

The sliding glass doors of the hospital’s emergency entrance tracked open.

The place was busy enough, but the orange plastic chairs that filled the room weren’t completely packed.

It smelled sterile, as if someone had just come through with a heavy chemical cleaner.

A triage nurse wearing colorful, kitten-face-printed scrubs at the check-in desk turned our way as Xavier approached.

“She was struck by a cyclist,” he said. “Abdominal pain, upper right quadrant, hit her head-on the way down but her pupils are trackin’ fine.”

My eyes narrowed. That was…succinct. Almost as if he’d done it before.

She stepped to the side and grabbed a wheelchair. “Climb aboard and we’ll get you checked in.”

Xavier lowered me into it.

The nurse asked a series of questions—name, date of birth, health card and all the other necessaries to log me in to the system—then said, “Okay, this way, please.”

She aimed my wheelchair down the hall and Xavier stepped in, guiding me along behind her. Cutting a hard right, she led us to an exam room and gestured to the corner. He steered me there, then pointed me toward the door.

“Wait here and the doctor will be in soon,” she said, and left.

I picked at the dirt on my pant leg, gaze holding on my lap when I told Xavier, “You really don’t have to stay.”

He stepped back and faced me, his dark denim jeans sitting low on his hips, while his charcoal T-shirt molded to his very cut torso when he leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Gotta make sure you’re good.”

My chest did a little flip, and I hid behind the curtain of my hair. His coat smelled, like, really good. I must’ve looked ridiculous with it swimming over top of my own and covered in slush from my fall as if I’d just crawled out of a laundry hamper or something.

The door cracked open, and the doctor entered, head down in his tablet, fixated on some official…

thing. His white lab coat hung mid-thigh, his blue scrubs clean.

A stethoscope sat looped over the back of his neck, his erect posture clearly displaying the name tag that read “Dr. Vernon.” He was younger, somewhere in his late twenties, and had an arrogant air about him that grated me.

“Miss Nolan. My nurse tells me you took a spill,” he said, tone flat and completely disinterested.

His eyes lifted, followed swiftly by the quick uptick of his brows.

His attention raked over me, and nothing about it felt professional.

Taking the stool beside the plinth, he sat himself down and rolled closer.

Much closer. Too close. So close his knees pressed into mine.

I stiffened and swung my legs to the side to break away.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked gently as he set his tablet aside.

I fought the tightening of my stomach at his sudden shift. “Like I got run over by a bicycle courier.”

Xavier smirked.

Grabbing a penlight from his breast pocket, the doctor clicked it on. He raised his palm and cupped my cheek, his thumb skimming my temple before he held my eyelid in place. I flinched and tried to pull back, but his fingers gripped tight. “Hold still now.”

Xavier kicked off the wall, then clasped his hands before him as he took position at my side.

Dr. Vernon’s stare flicked up. His Adam’s apple dipped when he swallowed, and he released me before he brought the light into my line of sight. Moving it back and forth, he checked my pupil, then did the same on the other side.

I blinked hard when tracers tracked through my sight for several seconds until it cleared.

Pushing back a foot, Vernon asked, “Have you ever had a concussion before?”

Images flashed before me, a ticker tape of memories I begged to forget.

I screamed. The man swung. An explosion of pain. Everything went black.

The scar above my brow throbbed and I fought not to touch it. My gaze flicked to Xavier, whose own was already on me. Those eyes narrowed like he’d seen something. I turned away.

Nodding, I replied, “Yes. Once.” Don’t ask what happened. Don’t ask what happened. It wasn’t as if I’d tell the truth. I’d tried that before. But I was terrible at lying, hence my avoidance strategy.

“Was it severe?” he asked.

My lungs constricted. “I lost consciousness.”

He tapped something on his tablet. “And how about now? Any nausea? Dizziness? Headache? Light or sound sensitivity?”

“Nothing.”

“The notes say abdominal pain.” At the incline of my head, he patted the table beside us. “Lie down here.” He offered me his hand to help.

Xavier stepped between us none-too-subtly and took my elbow. His brows were furrowed when he gave me a look that said, This fuckin’ guy . A small smile stole across my lips, and his own tugged in response.

I climbed up and winced when I lay back.

His head cocked. “You alright, darlin’?”

Shifting until the pressure in my stomach eased, I uttered, “Yeah—”

“She’s in good hands,” Vernon said with an unseemly smile.

Xavier’s jaw ticked when he eyed him over his shoul der. He edged aside, but not far, as if he wasn’t keen on leaving me to Dr. Touchy-Feely’s devices. Thank God.

He stared down at Vernon, who looked decidedly small in Xavier’s looming shadow. But Xavier’s presence was…comforting. The concept of a guy I’d literally met on the side of the road making me feel anything but fear was bizarre. And oddly relieving.

Dr. Vernon set his hands on my abdomen, tapping each quadrant before he circled back. “Tell me if anything hurts.” He pressed, checking for whatever it was he needed to rule in or out. When he reached the upper right, a jolt of pressure-induced pain shot through me.

Flinching, I crushed my eyes closed before reopening them. “There,” I said through clenched teeth.

Vernon pressed again.

I groaned, tears blurring my vision. One leaked out and slithered into my hair.

Xavier cleared his throat, then shifted his weight as he rolled his shoulders.

Vernon dropped his arms and took a step backward. “Okay.” He adjusted his stethoscope. “I’m sending you to get a CT for the head and an abdominal MRI.” Taking up his tablet again, he aimed for the door and left without another word.

“Might wanna check your prescription for his number,” Xavier said.

I barked a laugh, all the awkward tension that’d settled in my gut dissipating in a blink.

That grin tugged his mouth again, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw as he extended a hand to me. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the wheelchair.”

The nurse poked her head in. She smiled broadly as her gaze danced between us, ultimately landing on mine. “You’re with me.” Xavier steered me out to meet her and she moved in, taking me from him. “No unnecessary people past this point, I’m afraid. You’ll have to return to the waiting room.”

The incline of his head was stiff.

My gaze met his again, a heavy blush heating my cheeks when I breathed, “Thank you, Xavier.”

He offered me an easy wink. “See ya soon, Ryah.”

A yearning anticipation fluttered in my chest. Guiding me away, the nurse led me down the hall, and the last thing I saw before I disappeared around the corner was Xavier watching me go.