He eyed my bloody torso, then dug through my pack, pulling out of the rest of the bandages Xavier had given me. “How’s your wound?” he asked. “Feeling any better?”
“Oh, yeah,” I replied, not bothering to temper the irritation in my tone. I peeled away the bloody gauze, and instantly wished I wouldn’t have. Some things were better left to the imagination. “I’m feeling super. A trip through cursed caves and spending the day being jostled on the back of a horse really does wonders for a healing body.”
Jessiah’s expression didn’t budge.
“That looks bad.”
Badwas an understatement. The wound transformed from fresh and open to partially healed, dirty, and inflamed. It was downright gross.
Pocketing the wave of insults that came to mind, I poured water on one of the bandages and tried my best to clean the surrounding skin.
I flinched more than once, wishing I’d kicked him out of the tent before doing this. But alone time around here was clearly not happening again. Even when I stopped to piss, Xavier insisted on standing with his back turned just a few feet away.
Xavier, I was fine with.
Jessiah was a whole other story.
“Here.” He got up on his knees and scooted closer. “Let me help you.”
Instinctually, I backed up. “I don’t need your help.”
I was getting tired of running in the same damn circles with him. But neither of us wanted to accept the other’s help. That much was a fucking given.
And since Huntyr and Wolf forced us on this damn trip together, it was virtually impossible to keep our distance. So when he ripped the bandages from my hand, I didn’t argue.
The inside of the tent shrank, any lingering space between us evaporating when his fingers touched my skin.
When he gently dabbed at the wound, I flinched. I was too exhausted to pretend it didn’t hurt.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. Though I doubt he meant it.
I focused on my breathing.Inhale. Exhale. Stay still and do not let this soften you to Jessiah. Get a damn grip on yourself, woman.
“You don’t have to make things so hard all the time, you know,” he said after a while.
In the darkness, I took in his face. He was too busy assessing my deranged torso to notice me staring, anyway. His eyesfocused on what he was doing, his brows drawn together, his cheekbones sharp in the shadows of the tent.
“You’re one to talk,” I replied. “Though I’m starting to think making things difficult is a sport for you.”
He didn’t smile, but he huffed a breath of air that almost resembled light laughter. “When we met, I admired how strong you were. I thought you were a total badass, doing everything all on your own.”
Was he really saying this right now?
I scoffed. “That’s hard to believe.”
“What is?”
“That you’d admire anything about me.”
His hands stilled, and I was certain he’d pull away. Figured I’d pushed him away one too many times, whipped out one too many insults, thrown one too many daggers.
But just as quickly as he’d stopped, he was back to work, covering my wound like I hadn’t spoken at all.
“Get some sleep, okay?”
When he settled onto his bedroll, I didn’t argue. I didn’t make snide comments about how I’d rather share the small tent with Xavier or Matthias. I didn’t joke about needing my personal space or my beauty sleep.
None of the usual Rummy comments made their way out of me.
