Dr Henderson followed me silently down the hall to my small bedroom, and there he checked my cut, which Joss had already protected against infection, and then inspected my stomach and ribs. There was slight bruising around my ribs that made him purse his lips.
‘It seemed he wanted to frighten rather than maim entirely, Miss Walker,’ Dr Henderson murmured with a hint of anger. I was guessing it was directed at my dad. ‘He could have caused some internal injuries if he’d kicked you any harder. As it is, I think your ribs are just bruised, although it’s possible there could be a hairline fracture or two. You’re going to feel some discomfort over the next few weeks. There’s nothing I can do except advise you to take ibuprofen to reduce the inflammation and to ice the injured area as well. I’ll also write you a line for work. It would be best if you take at least a week off. You don’t smoke, do you?’
I shook my head. ‘I quit a few months ago.’
‘Good. That’s good. If you feel any shortness of breath, or the pain worsens, or you feel any pain in your abdomen, contact me.’ He held a business card out to me and I took it gratefully.
‘Thank you.’
‘Now, I’m going to leave you to rest. Get some sleep.’
Persuasion was not necessary, and I crawled into bed carefully, closing my eyes to the sound of my bedroom door shutting. I wriggled out of my jeans, hissing at the pain in my ribs. With a kick, my jeans fell out of my bed on to the floor and I pulled my duvet tighter around me.
For the first time in a very long time I felt absolutely safe. How could I not when I had a small army out there in my living room, willing to defend me until the last breath? I’d been so frightened last night, so panicked, but they had taken most of that away – Joss, Braden, Uncle Mick, Olivia, Cam and Cole.
My family.
Tired muscles melted into my comfy mattress, and my eyelids drifted closed. Deep sleep claimed me for the first time in days.
It was the heat that woke me up.
Agitated, I threw off my covers and my eyes shot open with the pain as I let out a garbled cry.
‘Johanna.’ Cam’s voice was suddenly there.
My blinking, bleary eyes met his. He was sitting on the floor of my bedroom, his back against the wall, his knees drawn up, his hands dangling listlessly over them. Dark circles plagued his eyes, eyes that were lidded but still brimming with concern.
I rolled on to my elbow, clutching my ribs. It was light outside. ‘What time is it?’ I asked, my voice cracking on the words. I felt icky and warm and my mouth was dry.
‘It’s eight o’ clock in the morning. Sunday.’
Oh, God. I’d slept for an entire day. With effort I processed Cam’s ragged appearance. ‘Baby, have you not slept?’
Something sparked in his eyes at my question. ‘I’ve drifted in and out. I didn’t want to leave you. Look what happened Friday night.’
‘Not your fault.’ My lips thinned and then I hissed at the sting. I’d forgotten about my lip.
‘I want to hit him again.’
My eyebrows shot skyward, his words waking me up. ‘You hit Murray, too?’
‘I would have killed him, but Mick thought that might be a bad idea.’
‘Ah, Uncle Mick. A man of rationality. He’s such a buzz kill.’
Cam’s lips twitched. ‘Glad to see your sense of humour is still intact.’
I grimaced at the waking aches and pains. ‘It’s about the only thing that is.’
He leaned forward. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘Glass of water.’ Nodding, Cam got to his feet. ‘Where’s Cole?’
‘In his bed. Joss and Braden offered to come by and take him to the Nicholses’ for lunch later.’
‘Good.’ I closed my eyes again.
A minute or so later, Cam was shaking me gently awake. ‘You need to drink something.’
Reluctantly, I let him help me sit up, and I had to stop myself from leaning in and pressing my face against his neck. We still had way too much to discuss before we could even think about cuddling.
I took a big gulp of the ice-cold water he’d brought me and thanked him. And then before I could say anything, he gently nudged me over and got into the bed beside me, his arm coming around my shoulder to draw me against his chest. ‘What are you doing?’ I mumbled, but I didn’t really protest.
Cam sighed heavily, his fingers brushing through my hair. ‘I’ve been through hell and back in the last few days, Jo. Just let me hold you.’
Tears pricked my eyes. ‘I know you didn’t sleep with her.’
‘It looked bad, though, and you weren’t in any state to think anything else but the obvious.’
My fist clenched, curling into a tight ball. I hadn’t even realized I’d done it until Cam pushed his fingers against mine, forcing me to relax my hand. His thumb rubbed soothingly over my palm where my nails had bitten into the skin. ‘I’m almost afraid to ask this, but … why was she there?’
I felt his hesitation and my heart automatically lodged a complaint with a bang, bang, bang against my chest. ‘Cam?’
He turned his head and pressed his mouth against my forehead, breathing me in. When he pulled back, he replied softly, ‘She turned up late at the flat, distraught and a bit drunk. I let her in. She threw herself at me.’