He pulled me into his arms, the move heartbreakingly gentle and forceful all at once. I felt each heave of Anson’s chest against mine. Each inhale and exhale felt jagged as if they caught on tattered pieces of his heart. “Reckless,” he choked out. My arms went around him, and I held on tight. “I’m okay.” “You’re not,” he growled. “There’s a goddamn gash on your forehead, and someone drove you off the fucking road.”
