He was only steadying me when I fell, but as soon as I collided with his chest, I couldn’t seem to separate myself from him. I still can’t.
Reaper continues smoothing his hand up and down my spine, surprising me with his gentle touch. He buries his nose into the top of my head, smelling my hair and holding me tighter still.
The combination of his surprisingly tender gestures, coupled with the steady beat of his heart, calms me down enough to gain my footing once again. I reluctantly untangled myself from Reaper’s embrace, though I can’t deny the chill sweeping through my bones when I take a step away from him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Reaper’s frown is because of our distance, but that’s probably just me projecting.
I stare at the ground, unsure of how to move forward. He wants answers, but I’m not ready to give them. I know he didn’tbuy my bullshit excuse of wanting to scare him, but at least he didn’t call me out on it.
“Come on,” Reaper says in an authoritative tone, “let’s get you inside and get your knee patched up.” The massive man turns on his heel and starts walking toward the shop, but then he stops abruptly, waiting for me to catch up.
I walk next to him, and he matches my smaller strides so as not to leave me behind. I try my hardest to walk normally, but every few steps I wince at the sharp stinging in my left knee. Reaper’s hand hovers next to me, ready to catch me again if I fall.
When we get to the front door, Reaper not only unlocks it but also holds it open for me to walk through. I turn to him and give him my biggest smile, loving how it seems to catch him off guard every single time.
“If I knew this is what it took to get you to invite me inside willingly, I would’ve tried it much sooner,” I joke as I step inside.
Reaper grunts and rolls his eyes as he leads me down the hallway and into his office, but I don’t miss the slight smirk curling up one side of his lips. It feels like a major victory.
“Sit,” Reaper commands, pointing a thick finger at the couch in the corner of his office.
“Sir, yes, sir!“ I reply cheekily, giving him a salute. He doesn't say anything, probably because he’s trying to hide his laughter at how hilarious I am.
Reaper pulls out a first aid kit from a drawer in his desk, and then kneels in front of me, focusing on my knee. He traces his finger around the outside of the cluster of scrapes and bits of gravel, pushing up the hem of my dress slightly, so he can see the extent of my wound.
I know it’s purely for medical reasons, but the feeling of the rough pad of his finger ghosting up my thigh has me thinking all kinds of dirty thoughts. Which isn’t like me at all. I mean, I’mtwenty-three, and I’ve never kissed a boy. I wouldn’t know what to do with the hunk of man and muscle kneeling before me.
He gets to work picking out the small pieces of gravel, his eyes coming up to meet mine after each little rock is removed, silently checking to see if I’m okay. It’s the most kindness I think I’ve ever been shown, and so unexpected, it overshadows any pain I feel.
Reaper sanitizes the area once all the dirt and gravel have been removed, wincing slightly as if the rubbing alcohol were stinging his skin instead of mine.Is he really that afraid of hurting me?I suppose he said as much this morning after I embarrassed myself in front of him.
I hold my breath when Reaper’s fingers glide along an old scar on my shin. It’s about three inches long, and though it’s old and faded, it was deep enough to leave a permanent mark. Instinctively, I reach down and cover it up with my hand, which I realize all too late isn’t going to help anything.
Slowly, silently, Reaper grazes his fingertips over a yellowing bruise on my forearm, then another one on the inside of my wrist. He studies every inch of my exposed skin like he’s truly seeing me for the first time. I fidget on the couch, knowing he probably sees my father‘s anger etched all over. Most of the scars are old, while the bruises that are just starting to heal came from the night I finally broke free.
He doesn’t ask any questions, and I don’t volunteer any information. Reaper blinks a few times and shakes his head, refocusing on the task at hand. He covers my knee with a soft gauze pad and secures it with medical tape. It’s a little extreme for the tiny, shallow cuts on my knee, but he nods in approval at his handiwork. He’s kind of… Sweet. Adorable even, though I’m sure he’d scoff at that description.
“I’ll get you some water, and then you can tell me exactly what brought you here.”
I watch him stand and rifle through a mini fridge and a nearby cupboard before returning to my side. I gratefully take the water bottle, chugging half of it down before erupting into a coughing fit.
God, I’m so pathetic. I can’t even drink waterproperly.
Reaper sits next to me, close enough that our thighs are touching. He pats my back awkwardly, and I struggle to pull air into my lungs.
“Slow down,” Reaper demands. He clears his throat and repeats himself, softer this time. “Slow down, Lynx. You can have all the water you want.” He opens his mouth and then closes it, pressing his lips into a thin line.“How…” Reaper trails off and takes a deep breath, as if bracing himself or something. “How long has it been since you had anything to eat or drink?”
At least he didn’t ask me how long I’ve been sleeping in the back of that truck, which is a relief. “A few hours,” I hedge. He lifts an eyebrow in that accusatory way of his.
“How many hours?”
“Well, I just woke up a few minutes ago, so that makes it at least… Eight hours.” I smile at him, pleased with my answer. It’s not a lie. It has been at least eight hours since I’ve had anything to eat or drink. Twenty-something hours has at least eight hours in it, after all.
Reaper sighs heavily, tugging at his beard in frustration. “Are you always this dodgy with personal questions?”
I shrug and give him an innocent smile, loving the way he grits his teeth and narrows his eyes at me. I’m not sure why it brings me such joy to poke the grumpy bear, but I need to hang on to any moment of happiness I can get these days.
Reaper blows out a breath, then returns to the fridge for another water bottle. He hands it to me along with some string cheese and a bag of chips.
“That’s all we have around here, but I’ll stock up this afternoon.“
