Page 51 of Heat Redacted


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Kit went still.

I felt the shift in him. The realization hitting him in real-time. He realized he wasn't just rendering first aid; he was administering a sedative.

He didn't pull away. He didn't make it weird.

He leaned in, just an inch.

"Copy that," he murmured. "We're done with the wrap. I'm going to peel the gloves off now. Going to engage the trash can."

Snap.The gloves came off.

"I'm going to get you water," he continued, keeping that same low, steady cadence. "From the fridge. Cold. You're going to sit on the sofa. Because you look a bit grey, Z. Adrenaline crash."

He guided me to the sofa without touching me, just using the gravity of his voice.

"Sit," he said.

I sat.

"Water." He placed the bottle in my good hand. "Drink. Three sips. I'm watching."

I drank. The water was freezing.

Kit stood there, hands visible, leaning slightly against the table.

"Pulse is coming down," he observed. "Color's coming back. You're sorted."

He looked at the bandage.

"Keep it dry. We change it tomorrow. I'll do it."

"You'll do it?" It wasn't a question. It was a hope.

"I'll do it," he confirmed. "Same drill. Narration. Protocol. Unless you want Euan's steady hands?"

"No," I said quickly. Too quickly. "You."

Kit's eyes darkened. Just a fraction. A flash of something possessive and pleased, quickly masked by care.

"Right. Me."

He stepped back. The distance felt cold.

"I'm going back to the snare now," he said, pointing at his spot on the floor. "Furniture mode. You stay there. Let the meds work."

"Okay."

He sank back down to the floor. He picked up the drum key.

He didn't look at me, but he kept talking, low and soft, under the hum of the bus engine.

"Just tuning the bottom head now. Needs a quarter turn. Keeping it tight. You're safe, Z. We're just driving. Just tuning."

I closed my eyes. The sound of his voice wrapped around me tighter than the gauze.

I fumbled for my phone with my good hand. I needed a reality check. I needed to tell someone before I floated away on the vibration of a Manchester accent. So I texted Callie.

Emergency.