A few minutes later, my hands are glass-free and we’re joined by Masters and Grayson. Two police officers follow them in, along with a fresh crew of paramedics. They nod to Wyatt as they take his place by my feet, inspecting my wrist and hands. The wrist isn’t broken, but it’s severely sprained and there’s so much swelling under the bruised flesh, they err on the side of caution by wrapping it in a tight splint.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“My back,” I murmur, rising to my feet. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, I’m starting to feel aches and pains over every part of my body. I turn and lift my shirt so they can examine my spine. Wyatt steps in front of me, creating a human privacy shield to block the view of the others.
I smile at him, appreciation in my eyes.
He frowns back at me, deep concern etched on his gorgeous face.
“Just bruising,” the paramedic says, lowering my shirt. “But if you experience any dizziness, excessive fatigue, or blood in your urine, make sure you get to a hospital ASAP. Otherwise, drink lots of fluids and take Advil as you need it. You should be back to normal in a few days.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, examining my new splint as they gather their med-kits and head for the door.
The police are next. They ask me to describe the ordeal from the moment Helena arrived to the second Masters showed up on my doorstep. I try to keep my voice steady, dispassionate, as I relive the horror, but I don’t think I succeed because Harper starts to cry and Wyatt’s hands are fisted so tightly by the time I finish, I worry he’s lost circulation. Grayson has gone pale. Even Masters looks effectively shaken.
With efficient nods, the officers snap their notepads shut and turn to go. Masters walks them out. The rest of us sit in silence. My eyes are starting to droop; it’s been a long day.
“You know, this is getting kind of old,” Harper says, shattering the quiet. “My boyfriend having to rush out of bed at odd hours, to save you. I’m thinking I should move in, like I did when you first bought this place. For wholly selfish reasons, of course.”
I smirk. Typical Harper — she recognizes I don’t want to be alone in my house, after this ordeal, but also knows me well enough to realize I’d never ask for her to stay.
“I’m hoping this was the last time,” I murmur, laying my head on her shoulder. My tired eyes find Wyatt’s and I see he’s watching me intently. His too-blue stare never leaves my face, as if he fears I’ll disappear should he shift his attention away even for a moment.
“What I want to know is how the hell she got in here in the first place,” he mutters darkly.
Walking back into the room, Masters answers before I can. “Saw her come in on the security feed. She slipped through the gate while you were leaving. Must’ve been camped out in the hedges, waiting for an opportunity.”
Wyatt flinches.
“It’s not your fault,” I whisper, knowing it’s useless even as the words leave my mouth. He’ll blame himself for this, despite the fact that he couldn’t have possibly known what would happen when he drove away. I see his jaw clench even tighter. The thoughts in his eyes are clear as day.
If I’d stayed, you’d be fine right now.
“I thought she was in rehab,” Harper says. “How the hell did she escape a loony bin in Palm Springs and make it here in the first place?”
“She wasn’t in Palm Springs.” I sigh tiredly. “She was in Malibu.”
The air goes still. I don’t realize I’ve just dropped a bomb until I see Wyatt turn to Grayson.
Up till this moment, my co-star has been hovering on the fringes of the room, looking vaguely guilty. Now, seeming to realize I’ve just thrown him into the spotlight, he shuffles a bit father inside.
“I didn’t take her to Palm Springs,” he admits, voice suffused by remorse. “I thought I could handle it. I thought I could help her on my own, if I watched her round the clock and brought in a private doctor for home visits. I was trying to do something good. I had no idea she’d go after you, Kat.” He steps closer to me, those infinite green eyes contrite. “Iswear, if I’d known she was this bad, I—”
I never get to hear the rest of his words, because Wyatt’s fist flies out and punches him in the mouth. Grayson goes reeling from the force of the blow. He catches himself just in time to prevent tripping over an end table.
“Fuck!” Grayson curses, clutching his bleeding lip. “Hastings, what the hell is your problem?”
Wyatt is red-faced and seething. His words vibrate with fury as they leave his mouth. “You put Katharine in danger with your shitty choices. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I don’t even want to look at you. You’re leaving, right now.”
“Kat—” Grayson’s eyes fly to me. “Kat, I’m sorry—”
Wyatt takes a threatening step toward Grayson and he backpedals a bit.
“Just go, Grayson. It’s fine.” I rise to my feet, exhaustion saturating my every atom. “Really. I’m not mad. But I am tired. You two having a fist fight in my living room really isn’t helping matters.” I glance at Wyatt. “You need to calm down, love. You’re freaking me out.”
He grunts, his glare never leaving my co-star.
Grayson looks from me to Wyatt and back. I see comprehension fill his eyes. For the first time, he seems to realize that I’m nothisanymore. That I haven’t beenhisfor quite some time, now.