“Just hold that there. You’re bleeding a lot, but it doesn’t look deep.”
I do as he says and try to laugh because he looks so worried. “You do a lot of first aid as a bodyguard?”
He glances up at me as he digs through the first aid pack, and the dark shade to his eyes says he doesn’t find this funny. Water drips off his hair.
“You should get changed,” I say.
“I will in a second.” His voice is all business now. He grabs hold of my chin and turns my head. “Look that way.”
I can’t see what he’s doing, but the wrestling of wrappers says he’s found what he’s looking for. I curse at the cold sting of alcohol as he dabs at my head.
“Sorry. I need to see how far it goes.”
“So you can what?” I ask. “Stitch me up?”
He presses at the side of my head. His lips are still thin as I turn back to look at him.
“Will I live?” I ask.
“I put some Steri-Strips on it to try to stop the bleeding.” He holds up my ruined shirt. “But I guess we’ll have some explaining to do when we get back.”
“Occupational hazard.” I’m already feeling better, though goose bumps are raising up on my skin in the cool air of the cabin. I shiver, and David’s expression focuses intently on my chest. I let him look. Something happened outside before the rain started. I felt it, and the way he didn’t step back from me said he was feeling it too. Risky. But who would know out here?
Finally, he hands me a dry shirt, then turns his back so he can put the other one on.
“How far to the lodge?” David asks.
Good question. The engine is still idling, but we’re definitely bobbing in no particular direction. The rain has let up some, so I can at least orient myself against the shore in the distance.
“Couple of hours,” I say. “We’ll take it a little more carefully until the weather gets better.”
David scoots up close to me again, and even if I weren’t chilled through, I would still be able to feel the heat radiating off him. He touches the side of my head, apologizing when I flinch.
“Just wanted to make sure they were really stuck down.”
The weather doesn’t improve. On a clear day, I’d let the engine open up and stick close to shore where we might find some calm spots, but everything is choppy bordering on sloppy, and I don’t know this shoreline as well as I would if we were closer to home, so I can’t say for sure how far out any shoals and rocks might extend. It’s a slow, bouncy ride. My head is killing me. David finds some ibuprofen in the first aid kit, and I down it with one of the sparkling wild berry drinks stored in the cold locker. I nearly throw it all back up because the drink tastes like synthetic cherry, and I hate that.
“Are you okay?” David asks. He’s so worried about me he’s been leaning against the cabin door just behind my shoulder the whole way, even when I tell him he can sit down.
“Fine.”
“You’re sure?”
I try to pull up all my hours of Wild Eagle training. The guest comes first. But in truth, the ache that’s spreading from my ear all the way over the crown of my head is my priority. “Actually, no. I’m having a hard time concentrating. Can you take the wheel for a bit?”
He leaps up instantly, and I sag down to the bench.
“You’re not okay,” he says.
“I’ve had worse. Just need to get off the boat so the world stops moving.”
David squares his shoulders and sticks his gaze to the horizon. He’s got a mission. He even opens up the throttle a little farther, and the added whine of the engine makes me close my eyes, but I know it’ll be worth it when we’re back at the lodge and I can lie down.
“Can you—” He clears his throat, and when I open my eyes again, he’s watching me with a worried expression. “Can you keep talking though? Or something. Just so I know you’re conscious.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Tell me about yourself. Have you been anywhere but Alaska?”
