Chapter 2

It was after that I’d dozed off, finally being left alone for a little while, and with the good drugs coursing through my IV. Only to wake to find Angela’s worried and disapproving stare. I could have done without the latter, but the kid in me was glad she was there to protect and comfort me.

“Do they at least know who did it?”

“Yes, Mom,” I answered quickly, using the title she always insisted on, just to soothe her. She softened a bit and leaned to clasp my hand, careful of the IV. I’d been part of the Mastriano family since Joe befriended me in fifth grade. But it was still odd to call her “Mom,” because it felt like I was pretending. I couldn’t call her Angela to her face, and Mrs. Mastriano seemed too formal. Usually I did my best not to call her anything at all. Sometimes, though, it was needed, and I defaulted to the one she preferred, even though it didn’t sit right on my tongue. She might be comfortable calling me her son, but I’d never quite gotten to that level myself. Angela wasn’t actually my mother, but she’d given me a place to escape to when life at home had been too much.

“Good.” There was a hint of malicious intent in her eye and I couldn’t help but grin. She was the sweetest woman on the planet, until someone messed with anyone she considered family. Then it was no holds barred, all bets were off. I loved that about her because I was the same way.

The doctor chose that moment to walk into the little cubicle. I hadn’t seen her in hours, ever since she checked me over and sent me for tests. But she was back now and smiling, so I thought that might be good.

“How are you feeling, Officer Kinslow?” Her voice was soft and pleasant. It took me a few seconds to remember she had previously introduced herself as Dr. Ritter. I blamed the morphine.

“Okay,” I answered honestly. Everything hurt, but I could handle it. “When can I get out of here?”

Angela clucked at me again, and Dr. Ritter gave a soft laugh. “Soon. If your guest will step out, we can discuss your care and your test results.”

I could feel the tension rise as Angela crossed her arms over her ample chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Dr. Ritter offered a placating smile. “Ma’am, if you would—”

“No.” Her glare was almost defiant. “I’m his mother. I should be here.”

The doctor looked startled. “Oh. I thought—”

This time I was the one to interrupt. “It’s fine. She can stay.” I didn’t want to have to make any explanations. It was clear from her darker complexion and my much fairer skin, blond hair, and blue eyes, we were not related by blood. While that could have been explained away, Joe was listed as my next of kin and emergency contact, and he was the only one. And I knew my captain had spoken with the medical staff. It was clear I didn’t have any family, at least not those related by blood.

The doctor took another few seconds to process the information and my request, but she finally smiled again, turned toward the small computer on a stand, and started clicking through my chart. “All right, then. Well, Officer Kinslow, the truth is you were very lucky. No broken bones, not even a concussion. All your imaging came back clear. You’re going to be very sore for a while. Very, very sore. You have some pretty serious bruising and a few small lacerations, but none that needed stitches. And the road rash on your left shoulder and hip will need meticulous care as it heals. But in a month or so, you’ll be back to normal.”

God, that was good to hear. I blew out a breath and then nodded. “So I can go home?”

“Not so fast,” Dr. Ritter chided gently. “We want to keep you overnight, just to monitor you for internal bleeding. But we won’t admit you as long as everything remains clear, and you can go home in the morning.”

I would have argued, tried to convince the doctor I could be released now, but Angela cleared her throat and gave me a warning glance.

“Thank you, doctor,” I said instead.

“And what about work?” Angela asked.

Dr. Ritter turned toward her. “He’ll have to follow up with his PCP, but it’s going to take him a long while to heal. He’ll be on medical leave for at least four or five weeks.”

“Six.” Angela didn’t hesitate.

The doctor blinked. “Pardon me?”

“He needs to be out at least six weeks.” Her tone brooked no disagreement. “I’m going to have him home for the holidays this year instead of running off to work the crap shifts. I won’t have him missing out, not when he’s not fit.”

“Hey now,” I protested.