More and more of the Wilson clan started to arrive, prompting the nurse to kick them all out, with the exception of Lucy and Dean. Now and again, the two of them stepped away, allowing everyone from his grandparents to his cousins to come in, all of them fussing and talking over each other.
Ian’s head was still swimming when the doctor came back in.
Two hours later, with the wound bandaged and cleaned and Ian given a clean bill of health, the entire Wilson clan formed a circle as they escorted him into the parking lot. Dean got behind the wheel of the car, and Kelli sat in the front next to him.
Ian sat in the back, wedged between Lucy and Dana. “It’s just a flesh wound. You guys are making a big deal over nothing.”
Lucy took his hand, looked out the window, and said nothing.
When they got home, Ian sat down on the couch and fell asleep, the events of the day and the painkiller he took finally catching up to him. A few hours later, he was roused from his sleep by the sound of the doorbell. Lucy’s voice came into focus first, followed by the dim lighting of the TV. She appeared in his field of vision, set down the containers of food, and reached for the remote.
“Marissa called. They weren’t able to find the shooter, but Jake is fine.”
Ian sagged against the couch and ran a hand over his face. “I should be out there.”
Lucy frowned and twisted toward him, her face pale and withdrawn underneath the bright, fluorescent lighting of the lamp. “No, what you need is to take it easy. You were shot, Ian. Don’t you realize that?”
“It just grazed my arm; that’s all.”
Lucy’s expression tightened. “So, that’s it? You get shot, and that’s still not enough to convince you that you need to take it easy?”
“It’s part of the job—”
“No, it’s not,” Lucy interrupted, growing visibly agitated. “You shouldn’t have volunteered to escort that man. It’s not your job. He’snotyour responsibility, Ian.”
“He knows things about Eric and things that could help with Mom’s case.”
“You’re not the only qualified police officer,” Lucy told him, lifting her chin. “You can let other people help.”
“It’s my mom’s case. Don’t ask me to walk away from this.”
“I’m not asking you to walk away from this,” Lucy protested, her face growing hot with anger. She kept waving her hands, which were curled into tight fists. “I’m asking you not to take unnecessary risks. I’m asking you not to put yourself in any more danger. We should talk about these things first.”
“Like you talk to me about things?”
Lucy stopped waving her hands and ran a hand over her face. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s plenty fair. You’ve been ignoring me for months, Lucy, and now you want to bust my ass for not telling you about this? When would I tell you, huh? When you’re ignoring me, or when you’re looking right through me?”
Lucy squared her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height. “I’m not ignoring you or looking right through you.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Lucy took a few steps back and raked a hand through her hair. “Okay, you know what? It’s been a long day. Let’s not do this right now.”
Ian stood, and the niggling sensation in the back of his skull grew. “I’m going to sleep in the study tonight.”
Without waiting for a response, he reached for one of the take-out containers and brushed past her. In the study, he slammed the door shut and tossed the container onto the empty desk. He pressed his ear to the door and heard Lucy muttering to herself, but she didn’t come after him.
He wasn’t sure if it made him feel better or worse.
Chapter Seven
Dr. Singh leaned forward and took the pieces of paper they were holding out. She scanned Lucy’s paper first, then switched her attention to Ian’s, and a furrow appeared between her brows. Then she sat up straighter and set the papers on a table next to her. Slowly, she picked up her notebook and jotted down a few things.
Unlike last time, Lucy was watching the therapist like a hawk.
Ian couldn’t tell if it pleased or unnerved him.
