She nodded. “Need help?”
He shook his head. “Jamie has his hands full, baby. Why don’t you see what you can do in the clinic? Davis can give me a hand. Right?” Skipping over Grant, he landed his gaze on the skinny but surprisingly solid teenager.
“Yes, sir!” he replied, always eager to be of assistance, especially when any type of motorized vehicle was involved.
“Great.” His spinal column ramrod-straight, Chase clapped his hand on Davis’s shoulder as he walked on by. “Meet me back here when you’re done inside.”
Orders given and plans made, Chase went to assist Zander with Jay’s litter, and together, they ferried him toward the lodge with sure hands and steady steps, Grant and his support team left behind in their speedy wake.
“Wow,” Gray huffed, squeezing him around the waist as she maneuvered them forward. “He just ignored the fuck out of you.”
“Yep.”
“How come?” Davis asked.
“What’d you do?” Gray accused at the same time.
“I didn’t do anything,” he growled, slightly miffed by her assumption he was to blame. “He’s just mad because I went after Jay.”
“But Adam said you saved his life.” Head down and gaze locked on the ground, Davis took his half of Grant’s weight like a champion.
“Yep.”
Gray shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us.” One pothole away from kissing the dirt, Grant kept his focus on the uneven terrain, each step a special kind of torture specifically designed to test his will.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Don’t worry about it, sunshine. Whatever’s bothering him, he’ll get over it.”
Maybe. Eventually. Someday. Or not at all. Whatever. Screw him.
As if she could read his mind, Gray snorted and snapped, “Well, whatever it is, you’re both stubborn assholes, so just apologize and get it over with. And stop fucking calling me sunshine, dickhead. Or I’ll knock you unconscious myself.”
Apologize? Hell no. He hadn’t done anything wrong.
Jay was alive. Rebecca rescued. The JTT home.
As far as he was concerned, Chase could go fuck himself. Sure, Grant had taken a bit of a beating along the way, but he wasn’t the only one. And if Jamie and Zander had let him sleep for more than two hours at a time, he’d be a lot further along on his road to recovery.
Nope. An apology for doing his fucking job. Not gonna happen. Not in this lifetime.
Not in any lifetime. Not if his hard head had any say in the matter.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Wrong. Everything about feeling so good felt so wrong, and Becca wanted to stay submerged in whatever drug had been pumped into her veins for the last couple of hours, days, weeks…
She had no idea.
About a lot of things, including where she was, who she was with, and why it mattered.
She dozed. Or maybe she floated. In and out. On and on. Enveloped in her happy feels. Safe. Warm. Carefree. Nothing bad could reach her here. If she didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes, didn’t try to think too hard, she could avoid reality altogether.
Reality sucked.
Big time.
