Which means speed-walking out of the bathroom with my eyes shut is a terrible idea.
“Ow! Shit! Fuck!” I grab my face as pain shoots through it as I slam nose-first into the side of the door.
I’ve played hockey since I was four years old, so I know instantly that I’m going to be black and blue. And that there’s a chance my nose is broken.
There’s a scramble behind me, and I hear Odette getting off the toilet.
So much for not being able to move. And so much for being deathly afraid of the spider.
“Oh my god, Noah! Noah! Are you okay?” Her hand lands on my back. “Are you—”
“I’m fine!” I roar, shoving the door so hard it bounces off the wall and smacks into my side as I race out of the bathroom.
“But your face. I—”
“Just go to the damn bathroom, Odette,” I say, grabbing the handle and slamming the door closed hard enough that it rattles the walls of the old farmhouse.
Odette doesn’t say another word, and I don’t blame her.
Well, I kind of do.
If she wasn’t being so damn stubborn, I could have just set the toilet paper on the counter with no problem, and I wouldn’t be walking around with a busted beak right about now.
I finally open my eyes, pressing my back against the wall and sucking in breath after breath, trying to get myself under control.
I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe my face hurts so damn bad. I can’t believe I yelled at Odette like that.
I push off the wall and stomp through the house, going back upstairs to my bathroom, which has more than enough space, so I won’t be running into doors anytime soon.
There’s a nasty gash across the bridge of my nose, blood leaking down the sides of it and dripping over my chin onto my shirt. Other than that, it doesn’t look too bad, though. For now, at least. I have no doubt I’m going to have a black eye—or two—tomorrow.
I press around it, feeling for any signs of it being broken, but I think I’m okay. I got lucky, that’s for sure.
After cleaning the cut with my first aid kit I’m now really damn glad I brought, I change out of my bloodstained shirt, pop a few ibuprofens to combat the swelling, and head back downstairs.
Odette’s sitting on the second-to-last step, her chin resting in her hand. Even from behind, she looks deflated. What does she have to be upset about? I’m the one who got hurt.
She flips around when she hears me coming, then scrambles to get out of my way.
When she looks up at me, there’s no mistaking how her eyes widen as she takes in the damage she’s caused.
“Noah, I ... I didn’t mean to—”
I hold my hand up, stopping her. “It’s fine.”
She nods, worry still covering each inch of her features. “Are you ... is it broken?” she asks with a wince.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. Going to bruise, and it hurts like a son of a bitch, that’s for damn sure, but not broken.”
She breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. That’s good.”
Her fingers play with the edges of her shirt. She looks worried and even a little scared. She looks sorry.
“Listen, I think we should call it a day.”
She snaps her blue eyes back to mine, tilting her head to the side. “But ... the barn. I thought we were going to work on it for longer. Until dark?”
Damn going back to working on the barn.
