Even in the chaos of the moment with fear lingering in her eyes, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Her being here, taking care of me, makes something burst in my chest.
"It's not deep, but it needs cleaning and probably a few stitches." She glances at my shoulder, where I'm holding my arm at an awkward angle. "What else?"
"Nothing, all good."
"Blaze." The way she says my name is sharp and full of warning.
I give in to her immediately. "Shoulder's a little tweaked," I admit. "Probably just a strain."
"Come on, let’s get you to the medical tent." She turns to Cruz, who's rappelling down behind us. "Sergeant, I'm taking Instructor Reynolds for treatment. He'll be out for at least an hour."
Cruz nods. "Take care of him."
If only he knew.
CHAPTER 10
BLAZE
The medical tent is small. When we enter, Serena points to a cot in the corner.
"Okay, sit and take your shirt off.”
I raise an eyebrow. "Usually I like a little foreplay first."
"Blaze." Her voice is strained and she cuts her eyes at me. "Please. Just... let me do my job."
The desperation in her tone cuts through my bravado. I sit on the cot and pull my shirt over my head, wincing as the movement aggravates my shoulder.
Serena doesn't look at my chest the way she did last time I peeled my clothing off for her. Her eyes don’t wander over my scars or the muscles I know she remembers touching. She's laser-focused on my arm. Then without a word, she gathers supplies from her kit with quick, efficient movements.
"This is going to sting," she warns.
"I can handle it."
She cleans the wound with antiseptic, and I barely flinch. I've had worse. But having her hands on me and her face inches from my skin is a different kind of torture. Her breath is warm against my arm and there’s comfort in her touch that seeps through my body.
"You were distracted out there," she says quietly, threading a needle. "I saw you miss that handhold."
I watch her work, mesmerized by the steadiness of her fingers. "Hard not to be when you're standing there looking like that."
"Looking like what? I'm in scrubs." She pauses and lets out a giggle as the needle hovers over my skin. "That doesn't even make sense."
"Sure it does. Besides, all I’m thinking about is what's underneath." I catch her wrist gently before she can start stitching.
Her breath hitches and she lowers her voice. "We're not alone. Anyone could walk in.”
"I’m not scared.”
She pulls free. "I am." She starts stitching, her movements jerky now. "I'm scared of losing my job. I'm scared of letting you in. I'm scared of wanting something this much and having it disappear."
"I'm not going to disappear on you." The words rip out of my throat.
"Maybe not on purpose, but you're military. Going places is literally your job."
"Then I'll come back." I reach up with my good arm and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Every time. No matter what. I will always come back to you."
She blinks rapidly, turning back to my arm. "You can't promise that."
