“Yeah,” Mercy said in a monotone. “Then.” She was talking now, responding to conversation, but her expression was completely closed off, her eyes unreadable.

But at least she wasn’t blankly staring. That had been damn creepy.

A team of medics made their way through the crowd and one of them went down on one knee in front of Mercy. “Hi. I’m Rick. I understand you had a bit of excitement here. How can I help you?”

“She needs stitches,” Farrah said.

“I’m fine,” Mercy said in that same flat tone.

“You’re not fine,” Farrah said sharply. “Goddammit, woman, will you let someone take care of you for once?”

Mercy didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Just sat there as calmly as if she’d been meditating. “I am fine.” She looked at the medic. “I’m so sorry to have bothered you, but as you can see, I don’t need medical attention. A few Band-Aids will be sufficient for the cut on my side.”

“Mercy,” Farrah whispered brokenly. Tears were slipping down her cheeks. “Please.”

Mercy patted Farrah’s hand absently. “I’ve had a lot worse, Ro. I’m okay. I promise.”

That did not make Rafe feel even a little better. Or Farrah, from the way her face crumpled.

Sasha met Rafe’s gaze helplessly. “We can’t force her to get medical attention.”

Rafe sighed. “Let’s take her to Mom and Dad’s.” He glanced at Farrah. “Mom’s a retired nurse. She’ll know what to do.”

Farrah’s nod was shaky. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Are you okay with that, Mercy?” Sasha asked.

“I have to get the cats settled,” Mercy replied, not answering the question. But she hadn’t said no and Rafe wasn’t going to ask again.

“I can get the cats settled for you,” Sasha said. “Will you allow me to do that for you, at least?”

“I need Rory.”

Rafe frowned, the sudden spurt of jealousy both irrational and real. “Who is Rory?” Then he remembered. “The cat. Right. Jack-Jack and Rory, right?”

Mercy looked at him then, her expression so serene it was terrifying in its own right. “Right.” She drew a breath. “Thank you. I . . .” She looked away. “Just, thank you.”

He didn’t dare touch her. She was so incredibly fragile. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he did know that I was doing my job or Anytime were bad responses. He decided on, “You’re welcome.”

Sasha handed Rafe his phone. “The operator came back. She said the ambulance is here.”

“No,” Mercy said loudly, and then she did flinch, having startled herself. “No hospital. No ambulance.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Rafe said, making his voice as gentle as he could, then relayed the information to the operator, but it was too late.

Another pair of medics rushed in, pushing a stretcher. Rafe ended the call with 911 dispatch, then reached for his cane. Grimacing, he pushed up, his good leg bearing his weight as he lowered himself into the wheelchair. He only used the chair when there was a lot of walking involved, like at an airport. He hated the chair, but he found his legs were weak and rubbery. It was his adrenaline crashing, but knowing that didn’t make him any happier about having to use the chair. Hooking his cane over the back, he propelled himself to meet the medics halfway.