“Should you go to the hospital?”
He grimaced. “I won’t. I’ll be okay.”
I glanced at the broken window where tendrils of smoke trailed from within his house. “You shouldn’t go back in. Not yet.”
“I guess I’ll go to a hotel.”
I almost killed the words before they erupted. “You can sleep on my couch.”
His strong hand settled on mine. “Thanks, but I won’t put you in that position.”
“What position?” I stared into the hollow sockets of his eyes. “I’ll be in my room, you on the couch. If they,” and I gestured at the gaping neighbors, “give a good goddamn, they’d be offering couches, too. Or a spare bed.”
Brody stared downward. “I’m still – you don’t know me.”
“You don’t know me, either,” I snapped. “Maybe I am a psycho killer and am luring you into my torture chamber. Maybe it’s time for a little trust here.”
Brody glanced around at the staring neighbors. “I’ve lived here for seven years,” he murmured. “They know me. You don’t. But you stepped up to the plate. Why?”
“Who cares?”
“Okay.” Brody smiled. He handed the blanket back to the paramedic, naked save for his shorts. I gulped hard and glanced away. “I’ll accept your offer of a couch for the night.”
The EMTs seemed happy to put Brody into my custody. “If you have problems, just call 911 or come to the ER.”
Brody didn’t answer as he limped beside me to my house.
“I’m sorry,” I said, letting him in and switching on the lights, “the A/C is on the fritz.”
“I don’t care,” he murmured, sitting on my couch.
“Let me see your feet.”
He leaned back as I knelt and set his right foot on my lap. As I’d gone to college to become a nurse before falling in love, I examined his foot with clinical assessment. I immediately saw why the paramedics didn’t insist he go with them. His burns, while bad, weren’t bad enough to rate a hospital visit.
Leaving him, I went to my bathroom to retrieve gauze, ointment, and pain killers.
“Take these,” I ordered, placing the pills in his hand. “I’ll bind your feet.”
Kneeling, I smothered his feet with the soothing ointment, then bound them in the gauze. Throughout my treatment, Brody endured the pain with calm stoicism, and occasionally offered me reassuring smiles.
“You have a light touch,” he murmured.
“I trained as a nurse.”
“Ah. You’d be a good one. Why’d you quit?”
I shut my jaw and focused on caring for his burns. “I had to.”
Brody didn’t ask for specifics, to my great relief.
I stood, then urged him to lie down. “There’s a blanket here if you get cold,” I said. “The windows are open.”
“I feel the breeze. It’s nice.”
He lay down with a sigh, his head pillowed on a couch cushion. “Thanks, Lindsey.”
“No worries,” I said quietly. “Get some rest.”
