The Texas Soldier's Son by Karen Whiddon

Author:Karen Whiddon [Whiddon, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-01-31T15:55:44+00:00

Chapter 10

Reacting instinctively, Kyle laid the bike down. He knew he was damn lucky he was going the speed limit. As it was, he got some serious road rash, torn jeans and bloody scrapes, but no broken bones, at least as far as he could tell. Just wounded pride.

Limping back from where he’d fallen, he picked his bike up and inspected her. There were some scrapes on the gas tank paint, but no dents. Some touch-up paint would fix that up fine. He climbed on and restarted the motor. It started up just fine, luckily.

Meanwhile, the other driver had continued on, apparently oblivious that she’d come damn near killing him.

He thought about chasing her down and confronting her, but all the zing had gone out of him, so instead he turned the bike around and headed back home.

No longer relaxed, his normal, everyday jumpiness had returned. He braced himself at every intersection, expecting someone else to pull out or run a red light. Though no one did, by the time he pulled into his driveway, his entire body was drenched in sweat.

Nevertheless, he opened the garage and wheeled the bike inside. He placed his helmet on the seat.

As he walked into the house, Nicole caught sight of him and gasped. “What happened to you?” she asked. And then, without pausing for breath, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” He could feel himself sinking. Sinking into that dark place he sometimes went. He always fought that feeling, even though he never won. Today, he couldn’t even summon up the strength to fight.

Careful not to make eye contact, he strode past her and headed for his bathroom. Once inside, he stripped off his ruined clothes and took stock of himself in the mirror. There were scrapes and cuts and more blood than he’d realized, but he had survived. Sometimes, he had to wonder why.

Turning the shower on as hot as he could stand it, he stepped inside. The water hitting his wounds made him clench his teeth, letting a hiss escape. Using soap, he relentlessly scrubbed himself, making sure no dirt lingered in any open sores.

Sometimes, the simple act of standing under the hot shower could restore him and bring him back from whatever dark precipice he’d strayed too close to. Not today. He knew deep down in his aching bones that tonight would be a long, rough night.

Finally, he shut the shower off and grabbed a towel to begin carefully drying off. Careful, because he didn’t want some of the cuts to start bleeding again. He began putting antibacterial ointment on all the ones he could reach.

Three sharp taps on the bathroom door startled him. “Kyle?” Nicole asked. “Would you like me to take a look at those cuts for you?”

“I’ve got it,” he shot back, his tone curt.

“I couldn’t help but notice there were some spots on your side and back that are pretty torn up. I know you can’t get to those.”

She was right, but that didn’t make this any better.

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