Maliki’s cries.
I shoved it all down. I swallowed hard and tried to get through this. “Yes,” I snapped.
“He welcomed me,” Gem lied. “I’ve stayed with him since summer. Oh, and he broke his arm at the same time he became concussed. It’s, eh...it wasn’t his first concussion.” She winced in my direction. “He had another. It granted amnesia for five years.”
“Gemma,” I hissed. “Stop.”
“I see.” The doctor scribbled some more, privy to my history when he shouldn’t be.
Gemma flinched and caught my narrowed stare. “I’m sorry, I’m done.” She kissed my cheek and turned back to the doctor. “The rest we don’t have to discuss. I only told you this much so you can do a full examination and help him get better. But...” She licked her lips. “You have to understand that he’s been on his own for a very long time.” She lowered her voice. “I’m repeating that part so you have empathy if he struggles with company. He hasn’t had the chance to work through his trauma, let alone the physical condition of a concussion I wasn’t skilled in treating. He needs...space and time and...understanding.”
Goddammit, this woman!
“If you’re so concerned about his condition, then why didn’t you come for help sooner?” the doctor asked sternly. “Multiple concussions of the magnitude you’re describing can come with serious long-term complications.”
“I didn’t seek help because I wasn’t fucking ready to be near people,” I snarled. “Enough. I’m done with this. Either let us go or do whatever you need to do. Either way, storytime is over.” I clamped a heavy hand on Gem’s hip, ensuring she knew I wasn’t kidding.
My temper was frayed.
My patience was done.
If she shared another shred of my history with this stranger, I wouldn’t be responsible for what I’d do.
“Fine.” The doctor sat straighter, clearing his throat as he wrote yet another something on his screen.
Gemma threw me a look before saying calmly, “Whatever tests and treatments he needs, can I ask that we stay together? I think it’s best if I’m in the room when Kas is...examined.”
Examined?
What the fuck did that mean?
“Of course.” The doctor nodded. He stood and smiled down at us. “Can I call any next of kin? If you’ve been gone as long as you say, I’m sure your family will be worried.” His eyes met mine. “And yours? The police will want to talk to you, Mr. Sands. Your family will also need to be notified. They’ll be very relieved to be reunited after so long.” He grinned, warming to his cause. “You’re home now. Both of you. And I’ll do my best to ensure you’re both healthy and ready to begin this new phase of your lives.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
––––––––
FOR THREE DAYS, I did my best never to leave Kas’s side.
That first night, they performed the same tests on us—X-rays on our lungs and general checkup on superficial burns we’d endured from fighting the fire. We were given a course of antibiotics just in case the smoke inhalation turned into a respiratory infection.
The doctor who treated us kept his true thoughts to himself, but I saw his gaze lingering on Kas’s scars, on the many, many mementos of a life trapped in abusive servitude. Kas had been unwilling for most of the tests, only undressing if I helped, refusing to let them inspect his still-healing arm, vibrating with fear and fury whenever the hospital staff came near.
His eyes never left the doctor and his assistant, flinching if they moved too fast, muscles bunching if they came too close. The aura of possessiveness and violence pouring off him put the doctor on edge. Ensuring his interest in Kas’s injuries—both recent and old—turned sharp with suspicion as he noticed the fading bruises around my own neck. He didn’t ask questions on how I’d earned such a necklace, but I saw where his mind had gone.
He saw the tension Kas gave off.
He put two and two together and probably came up with ninety-nine.
I wanted to assure him that whatever had happened between Kas and me was done and forgiven. I didn’t want the doctor running off to the police with opinions of a domestic violence case.
But I couldn’t voice those concerns with Kas in the room. I couldn’tgive him yet another thing to worry about. He was already borderline snapping. I didn’t know how much more he could handle, highly aware that if he didn’t rest soon, all his goodness might once again be drowned out by the horrors in his past.
That first night, it took a long few hours before we were cleared of immediate medical concerns. The doctor mentioned a specialist appointment in the morning for Kas’s concussion, and his gaze once again paused on me as if wanting to bring up my finger-sized bruises. But then he’d been called into the ER, and thankfully, we’d been escorted back to our private room—courtesy of my ability to afford such a luxury—and told to get some sleep.
The moment the door shut and it was just us, Kas let out a bone-deep sigh, swaying on his feet with exhaustion.
I tugged his hand and guided him into the bathroom.