Always Conall (Bitterroot #2)

by Sibylla Matilde

  But I shouldn’t. I had to push that down. That was a messy emotion to bring into an already tumultuous situation. I had to keep all this as smooth as possible for Mattie. It had to be all about Mattie. No matter what I really wanted for me.

  After leaving Robyn’s office, I stood in the elevator across from Conall heading to the main floor. The silence between us was almost painful.

  “You okay?” Conall gently asked after a moment.

  “Yeah,” I quietly replied. “It’s just… grown-up problems. I keep feeling like I’m too young for all this.”

  “You are, but you’re also doing an amazing job with the cards you were dealt.” he reassured me, and then paused for a minute. “Do you want to go get a cup of coffee or something? Sort of decompress after all that in there?”

  What I really wanted was for him to hold me. I wanted to feel the comfort and security that he had represented to me so long ago.

  But I couldn’t escape that nagging sense of abandonment. He’d left me before. Everyone had. And to suddenly be so alone and so afraid… I couldn’t go through that again. My throat felt closed and tight, and I was trying so hard to keep the tears at bay.

  My trepidation necessitated the distance. It pushed me to keep my emotion to the side. Because I simply had to do what was best for Mattie… in spite of what I really wanted. Because if I allowed myself to love Conall the way I desperately wanted to and then things got bad between us, she could lose him, too.

  “I don’t think that would be a very good idea,” I said in a small voice, unable to raise my eyes to meet his. “Not right now. We have paperwork to get turned in.”

  A light ping of the elevator’s bell rang, indicating we’d reached the street level, and without looking up at him, I escaped from the tight confines and made a beeline for my car.

  Chapter 12 ~ Hyper

  Conall

  Things felt so off… everything from the fight with Sage the other night and the uncomfortably odd meeting with the mediator. I hadn’t seen or heard from her aside from a picture she’d texted me of something Mattie had drawn. A picture of what appeared to be Mattie, me, and a purple unicorn. I’d responded with a thank you text, asking if she needed anything, and received a simple “no, we’re good.”

  I’d thought of little but her and Mattie in the last few days. There was a huge desire to make it right, yet, there was also a hopelessness that anything could ever be right between us.

  So I filled out my paperwork, trying my damnedest to list every penny I owned. Every investment I’d made over the years. And I totally approximated high when I was gave an estimate of the benefits of my job on the ranch, mainly the housing. When all was said and done, I felt like it clearly showed a great deal I could share with Sage to take care of Mattie.

  There were some questions that were harder for me. Mainly related to custody. How much time did I want to spend with her? Every minute, really, but I wanted Sage, too. And I sure as fuck didn’t want to take Mattie away from Sage. But I didn’t want her to feel like I was burdening her with all the day-to-day care either.

  By the time I had finished and emailed the statements to Robyn, I had a foul sensation burning in my gut. I was frustrated and irritable. I wanted something that would make me feel close to Sage, even though Sage had made it clear she didn’t want to be close to me.

  So I sought out a place that was somehow associated with her. A place I’d maybe even run into her that wouldn’t be too obvious.

  I headed to Hyper.

  The first thing I saw was Jeff glaring at me, obviously still a little sore from my last appearance here. Next to him stood Kian and Brynn. Kian looked half-bored, yet quickly shifted to half annoyed by Jeff’s bristling response to my presence. I nodded to Kian as I headed towards the bar rather than closer to them, and he lifted his chin as a reply. As unsettled as I felt, I wasn’t really here for a fight.

  I leaned into the bar to order a beer and took a long draw before I heard a soft voice beside me.

  “Conall?” Turning to look beside me, I saw Brynn. We had never really spoken to each other, so the whole situation felt awkward. How much did she know about Sage and I?

  “Brynn, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m a friend of Sage’s,” she said with a guarded look.

  Hearing her words, the man sitting on the stool beside me turned towards us, obviously half-soused. “Mmm… Sage. I miss that pretty little thing.”

  “Shut up, Doug,” Brynn sourly glared at the man.

  “Well, I don’t miss her,” the bartender said as he grabbed Doug’s empty glass. With a nod from the little drunk, he began to mix him a fresh drink. “She always got about double the tips I did.”

  “Because she had tits,” Doug remarked back with a loud guffaw. “Really nice tits…”

  Every hair on the back of my neck began to bristle, and I felt my spine straighten. My body immediately postured for a fight. This little fucker was treading on some thin ice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kian and Jeff come closer, and Kian put his arm possessively around Brynn’s shoulders, gathering up against him tightly.

  Unwittingly, Doug continued to spout off. “Man, she deserved every tip she got. She was fucking hot. It was like a feeding frenzy for the guys to try and get a piece of that.” Catching sight of Jeff, he took it a step further even. “Jeff, you did her. Was she pretty good in the sack?”

  The situation was going from bad to worse. I looked over at Jeff. The reminder that he’d had Sage made me want to kick his ass now, too.

  Fucker.

  “Yeah, you’d like to know, wouldn’t you?” Jeff shot back, but he turned his glare at me. Apparently the feeling was mutual.

  “She always acted like such a prude little bitch,” Doug grumbled, taking another sip of his drink, and then he snorted loudly. “But she got all knocked up in high school, so she must not have been that innocent after all, huh?”

  That was it. That little fucker had hit my limit. Grabbing him by the collar, I lifted him slightly and shoved him up against the bar.

  “Don’t you ever fucking talk about her like that again, you little prick,” I growled.

  “Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” he spat back. I wasn’t sure if his false bravery came from the booze or if the guy just had no common sense.

  “He’s the fucker that knocked her up,” Jeff growled from the side. Still, his distaste for me was obvious, but this guy apparently even had me beat. “So you best just shut the fuck up.”

  Kian stepped forward then, pushing Brynn behind him. “Let’s just chill the fuck out, guys,” he said with an icy calm. “Doug will stop, won’t you, Doug?” The look he shot to Doug clearly spoke volumes.

  With another hard look at the little guy, I slowly released him and stepped back, starting to turn away. But my blood boiled as I heard him mutter under his breath.

  “Tell her ‘hi’ for me,” he sniggered.

  In a blinding red flash of anger, I had a hold of Doug and tossed him across the room with a crash of furniture and broken glass. A few squeals from the crowd sounded, along with a groan as the little son-of-a-bitch staggered to his feet and rushed back at me. Through the flail of his swings and mine, I felt one of his buddies reach around in an attempt to grab onto my arms. It took Kian all of about two seconds to have that fucker on the floor. My focus was drawn back to Doug as I heard Brynn’s sharp cry.

  “Conall, watch out!”

  Turning back towards Doug, I felt a sharp, jagged pain in my side before I saw the broken beer bottle he’d latched onto. A trace of blood glistened on the sharp glassy surface. I swung hard, backhanding him like the little bitch he was. As he stepped back, he tripped on his own inebriated feet and fell into Jeff. Jeff took his shoulders and, with a sharp shove, pushed him back towards me, but not before he thumped the bottle shards on the table, forcing Doug to release his grasp on the makeshift weapon. With a nod of understanding, Jeff leaned back against the bar as I clocked Doug right betwee
n the eyes. The man fell like a rock, crumbling to the floor in muffled moan.

  With an aggravated growl, I looked around. A few of Doug’s buddies stared wide-eyed, and the one Kian had taken out was gingerly pulling to a stand. Kian caught a worried-looking Brynn in his arm as he came over to me.

  “Conall,” Brynn gasped at the side of my bloody, torn shirt, “you need a doctor.”

  “I’m fine,” I heaved. Truthfully, my side felt like it was on fire, but there was no way I was going to admit some pussy shit like that with Jeff and Kian standing there.

  “Really, man,” Kian agreed, “That’s bleeding something fierce, may be pretty deep. Come on, we’ll take you to the hospital.”

  I clenched my jaw and looked over at Jeff.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He lifted his chin in response.

  “Come on, Conall,” Brynn urged, carefully pulling at my arm, and I followed her and Kian out of the bar.

  Sage

  Three hours into my shift. I sorta felt like I was going to drop, and I still had nine hours to go. All this drama with Conall had my mind whirling, and, because of that, sleep had been increasingly elusive the last few days. Noticing how exhausted I was, my supervisor Ashley brought me an energy drink.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking a long sip and willing the B vitamins to kick in and give me a little boost.

  “Sometimes nights are so slow that you just kinda wish for a big pileup on the interstate or something,” she mused. “Then you feel like shit for wishing that.”

  One of the aides from the front desk came back to the nurses station with a chart. “Hey, Ashley,” she said, “we’ve got a minor laceration. Might need stitches.”

  Ashley looked over at me. “Want to take it, Ms. Intern? May be the only thing that happens tonight, and it might help break things up. Give me a holler if you have any problems.”

  I nodded, taking the chart from the aide, and headed out to the waiting room to get the patient. Just as I was about to look at the name on the paperwork, I turned the corner to see Brynn, Kian, and… Conall?

  “Oh God,” I groaned to myself and looked up towards heaven. “You’ve got to be fucking with me, right?”

  Brynn and Kian wore concerned expressions, although there was a mysterious touch of pride in Brynn’s. Conall looked to be in pain, and his grimace turned to a full on groan when he saw me.

  “Awe, fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

  Taking stock of the situation, I noted his hand over his abs, just below his ribs. Then I saw the blood.

  “Shit, Conall,” I exclaimed, “what happened?”

  “Well, Conall sorta got—” Brynn started.

  “Nothing,” Conall growled and shook his head slightly at Brynn, silencing her. “Just some drunk fuckers at the bar.”

  “Oh, that’s lovely,” I pursed my lips. “You’re getting in bar fights. Nice.”

  “It’s kind of hard not to fight with Doug,” Brynn muttered. “I’ve even fought with Doug.”

  “Brynn,” Kian warned.

  “Well, Kian,” she started in again, “after what Doug said about her, he had it coming.”

  “About who?” I asked, feeling a little sick to my stomach all of a sudden. He’d been in a fight over a girl.

  “Nobody,” Conall gave Brynn a sharp look.

  “Conall,” Brynn needled, “don’t you think she—”

  “Excuse us for a minute,” Kian interrupted. Grabbing Brynn by the waist, he ushered her back outside. Through the large doors, we could see them arguing before Kian grabbed a hold of Brynn firmly and kissed her long and hard. Going practically limp in his arms, Brynn gently nodded when he finally lifted his head and murmured against her lips.

  Shit, those two had kind of a weird relationship, but it seemed to work for them.

  Shaking myself back into the present, I turned back to Conall. “Well, let’s get you cleaned up and have the doctor come take a look.”

  I led him into an exam area and pulled the curtain closed. “Take your shirt off and get up on the bed so I can see what we’re dealing with.”

  I could hear the slight rustle of fabric as I gathered some four-by-fours and saline to clean the wound.

  “So, what did you get cut with?” I asked, willing my shaky voice to steady. So many emotions were raging through my brain – anger and desolation that he’d been fighting over some chick in a bar, worry about how badly he might be hurt, panicky that he was here before me in the first place.

  “A broken bottle,” he replied.

  A faint squeak from the bed indicated to me that he was settling. Taking a deep breath, I turned and damn near dropped the tray of supplies.

  All the air left the room as I could only stare at Conall’s broad chest. The splendid thick muscles of his shoulders, accented by the sleeve of tattoos down his arm. The sculpted pectorals highlighted by the silver chain and dog tags. The ripple of delicious abdominals that led to a deep vee, disappearing into his jeans.

  The angry, seeping wound.

  Shit, the wound. Concentrate, Sage.

  I was a nurse… well, almost a nurse. I was trained to deal with emergencies and complex traumatic situations. To think on my feet under high stress. Yet, just looking at Conall’s bare chest had my whole body a jumble of nerves.

  Ignoring the flutter in my belly and heated flush of my cheeks, I carefully set the tray down beside the bed and set to work. My fingers felt clumsy, which pissed me off a little. Why did he affect me so much? Still, after all this time? The emotions he drew from me seemed even more rampant than ever.

  Sadistically, I took a little pleasure as I cleaned out the wound. Every twinge of pain that coursed through him felt a little bit victorious.

  “So, you were fighting over some chick, huh?” I asked, with more venom than I intended.

  “I don’t really want to talk about it, Sage,” Conall growled with frustration.

  “Fine,” I spat, tossing a gauze pad on the tray. I doused the wound with saline and wiped a little more vigorously with a fresh four-by-four.

  “Jesus, woman,” he hissed, jerking back in an attempt to get away from my reach.

  “Knock it off, you big baby,” I berated him as I moved closer, although I did ease up some. In doing so, I noted a small shard of glass that had likely been causing a great deal of discomfort. Pausing to remove it, I flushed the wound again with saline and carefully examined it for more glass. Confident that I’d removed the last little bits of the foreign material, I began to dispose of the gauze and reorganize the supplies.

  “I’ll go grab Dr. Barsky who’s on staff tonight. You’ll probably need stitches. That’s a pretty deep cut.”

  “Thanks,” Conall sighed.

  “I’m just doing my job, Conall,” I stated flatly, narrowing my gaze back at him. I knew I was being a royal bitch, but for some reason, I couldn’t seem to help it. I was just so fucking pissed at him.

  Finding Dr. Barsky, I followed him back to the exam area, standing back to be of assistance when needed, but doing my best to just keep my seething to myself.

  “Yes, sir,” Dr. Barsky stated, “you, my boy, are going to need stitches.” Looking back at me, the genial older doctor gave me an odd questioning look for a moment before he spoke. “Sage, would you grab a suture kit?”

  With a nod, I escaped through the curtain, taking a moment to regroup before I returned.

  “Let me know if you feel much discomfort,” Dr. Barsky gently told Conall as he began to place the stitches.

  “Can’t hurt more than washing it out did,” Conall grumbled back, and Dr. Barsky’s hands halted. I could feel his gaze studying me intently for a moment.

  “There was little glass in there that I didn’t see at first,” I murmured in response, guiltily looking at back at him with a sidelong glance. Dr. Barsky lifted an eyebrow skeptically, but remained silent and quickly stitched up the wound.

  “That should do it,” he said at last. Giving me a hard look, he
then turned back to Conall. “I’ll leave you in Sage’s capable hands to finish you up. When was your last tetanus shot?”

  “I don’t remember, actually,” Conall answered.

  The doctor turned back to me. “Better update that.”

  I nodded without a word, and left to get the injection. When I returned, Dr. Barsky had left, and it was only Conall and I again.

  “So, it would appear that you’re really making stellar strides in figuring your shit out, huh?” I snidely muttered as I prepared the syringe.

  Conall didn’t say a word. So I baited him a little more. I couldn’t help it. I was just so pissed.

  “Fighting in the bar. That’s awesome. All responsible father shit. Taking after your dad.”

  Still nothing. Silent with a clenched jaw. Which irritated me even more. I couldn’t tell if he was mad at what I was saying or mad about the hoochie he’d been defending. And that was infuriating.

  “So which barstool bunny were you fighting over, anyway?”

  Finally a response. “Just forget about it, Sage.”

  A little harsher than I probably should have, I jabbed the needle into his deltoid muscle, and felt a smidge of satisfaction at his visible recoil.

  “Fuck,” he growled. “Easy, honey.”

  “You know, I’ve asked you to quit calling me that. A couple times.” I huffed at him, applying a little pressure with a cotton ball before I placed a small bandage over the injection site. It wasn’t bleeding bad, but I didn’t want it to get on his shirt. Then I realized that his shirt was trashed and bloody as it was because of the gash to his abs. A small spot of blood on his upper arm was the least of his worries, yet I still felt a twinge of guilt in my gut for my less-than-compassionate treatment.

  “Would you just settle the fuck down?” he shot back, and just like that I was pissed all over again.

  “You’re done,” I nodded to the waiting room. “Let’s go.”

  As we headed back to the waiting room where Brynn and Kian sat, I sighed and handed him an informational sheet and began to recite the usual aftercare instructions. “Okay,” I breathed out heavily, “keep it clean to avoid infection and stop back here or at the walk-in clinic in seven to ten days to have the stitches removed.” Because my mouth couldn’t seem to stop there, I had to get in one last little dig. “You should be back to fighting over slutty bar bitches in no time,” I spat.