The Rejected Luna (Avery and Kaden) novel Chapter 152

But then Steven gripped my arm once more, his tone dropping to a low, cautionary whisper.

“Stay away from him when you get back. Don’t let him get hurt because of you.”

The hypocrisy burned me. He could entangle himself with Verna without a second thought, yet I wasn’t even allowed to be near Horace.

“Don’t threaten me. I’m not that easily intimidated,” I shot back, yanking my arm free and striding toward Horace. “Horace, let’s get these tests done.”

Out of my sight, Horace cast Steven a cold, hard glare—there was a strange, dangerous spark in his eyes that made the air between them tense.

The medical tests were straightforward; the main worry was my wrist, since my hands were everything to me. Throughout the process, Horace fussed over me relentlessly. He refused to sit down and wait while I went to get the results. Instead, he tapped me lightly on the head, scolding me gently.

“Still trying to act tough? You’re the clumsiest person I know. Every time I’m not around, you end up seriously hurt. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

I gave a sheepish grin. “Of course not. Next time, I’ll be… No, there won’t be a next time. I promise I’ll stay healthy and think things through. No more injuries, and no more making you worry, okay?”

Horace’s expression softened just a little.

“That’s better. You really scared me this time.”

A warm glow spread through my chest. How had I been so blind? He had dropped everything and rushed here as fast as he could. His own leg was still injured, yet his concern for me outweighed his pain. How could I not be touched by that?

How had I gotten so lucky to have two friends willing to risk everything for me?

“Horace, thank you. Really, I—”

Before I could finish, his warm palm covered my mouth.

We sat side by side, so close I could see the golden flecks shimmering in his eyes. He held my gaze for a moment, then slowly withdrew his hand, tapping my head again with a mixture of affection and exasperation on his face.

“If you say thank you one more time, I’ll have to knock some sense into you. When your husband does something for you, it’s expected. But when I do, you have to be so formal?”

Of course not. It was just guilt. I owed Horace a debt I could never fully repay.

I shook my head vigorously, even giving my own cheek a playful slap. “I won’t say it again. Don’t be mad.”

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