“Sir, if we’re going to take her to the hospital, we need to get going,” the medic Trace had approached informed him.
Yes. They sure as hell did.
Trace helped them load Emma into the back of the ambulance before climbing inside and planting his ass on the small, cushioned seat beside her.
“W-what are you doing?” Her brows bunched together.
A second paramedic—the one Trace assumed would be driving the rig—slammed the doors shut from the outside.
“I’m coming with you.”
Surprise flickered behind Emma’s hazel eyes. “Why?”
Because you almost got blown to fucking bits before I ever got the chance to know you.
“Because I promised your brother I’d stay with you.”
“I’m a b-big girl, Trace.”
Emma’s voice was already starting to sound a bit steadier as her focus turned to the man on her right.
The paramedic had lifted her arm and was cleaning the inside of her elbow with iodine. He then picked up an IV needle and began poking around with his finger.
Knowing what was coming, Trace’s gaze shifted to Emma’s face.
“You’ll feel a little pinch,” the man warned her. Half a second later, he’d punctured her vein and was inserting the catheter into her arm.
Trace’s stomach churned. He could handle a lot of shit. A. Lot.
Needles? Not so much.
It was his one weakness, but he’d be damned if he let it show. Especially in front of this woman.
Not surprisingly, Emma didn’t even flinch when the damn thing went in. She just sat there, watching the entire process as if the guy had been putting on a fucking band-aid or something.
“You don’t have to come with.” She turned back to him. “I-I’ll be fine.”
Of that, he had no doubt. “I told Coop I’d stick by your side, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
He could tell she wanted to argue more. Instead, the tension in her muscles eased and she relaxed back into the pillow.
The ambulance began to move, and for the first few minutes, the only sounds filling it were those of the man working on his patient.
He asked questions as he assessed Emma’s physical and mental state, then grabbed the small, portable radio attached to his uniform.
While he relayed pertinent information to the hospital, Trace remained quiet.
The silence between them became awkward as he tried to think of something to say. In the end,shewas the one who spoke up first.
“Do you think Mac and Jake will be okay?”
Her voice sounded smaller, somehow.
Fuck.
He’d never been the type to give platitudes. It was a waste of time, and in the end, the empty words meant nothing.
Trace always said what he wanted, and if someone didn’t like it, that was too damn bad. But sitting here, with Emma’s seas of greens and browns staring back at him, he suddenly wanted to do whatever he could to make the fear in her eyes go away.