“Wes, I’m a vet, not a doctor.”
“Jesus,” Z grumbles, and Wes gently presses a hand into my belly and pushes me out of the way as he walks into the house and helps him get seated in one of my white kitchen chairs that creaks like it’s going to give out under his weight.
“Baby,” Wes comes and stands in front of me, and his palms hold my face gently as he nudges my cheek so that my eyes focus on his and not Z. “I need you to help him. The wound is clean through, so all you need to do is sew it up.”
“Wes,” I whisper, looking away from him to Z.
“Look at me.” I do, and his face lowers toward mine. “I need your help, baby.”
I search his face and whisper, “Okay,” then clear my throat. “I need to go to the clinic and get supplies. I don’t have anything here.”
“I’ll take you.”
“No, you stay with him. I’ll go and be back quickly.” I go to my room and get on a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of sneakers. I walk past the guys, head out of my garage, and open the door, and that’s when I see that I’m blocked in by Wes’ SUV.
“I’m driving you,” Wes says, stepping out into the garage. He takes my hand, leads me to the passenger side of his truck, and helps me inside before jogging around to his side. It takes less then five minutes to get to the clinic, and by the time we arrive, my body is shaking with nervous energy.
I’ve never done any kind of stitching on a human patient before, or been around anyone who had ever gotten shot.
“It’ll be okay,” Wes tells me, placing a hand on my lower back as I open the back door. I go right to the supply room and gather the necessary provisions into a shopping bag before locking the building back up and heading to my house. When we arrive, Z is sitting at thetable still, but he now has the bottle of Jack my sister June and I bought when she was home visiting from college.
“You better not neuter me, girl.” Z smiles, and his words make some of the anxiety that I was feeling leave and a laugh to bubble out of my mouth.
“You probably need to be neutered,” I tell him, and he grins then eyes the stuff I begin to set out on the table.
“Can I ask how this happened?” I question softly, pulling the towel away from his shoulder and looking at the wound.
“No,” Wes says, pulling out a chair and taking a seat.
“You don’t think I have the right to know, when you show up at my house in the early hours of the morning, asking me to stitch up a guy with a gunshot wound, while refusing to take him to the hospital?” I narrow my eyes on him, and he doesn’t even flinch.
“Nothing you need to worry about.” He looks at Z, and I see some kind of silent conversation happening between the two of them, which pisses me off.
I dump some alcohol onto a piece of gauze and begin wiping down the wound as I look at Wes. “This is the last time I see you,” I tell him, even though the words leave a nasty taste in my mouth.
“You already know that’s not happening, July,” he says as his jaw clenches tight.
“No.” I shake my head, getting a new piece of gauze so I can clean the backside of his shoulder.
“I know twice you’ve called me a bitch without cause.” I shake my head then turn it so my gaze connects with his. “I know you made me feel like crap when you found my cousin in my house.”
“I—”
“No,” I cut him off before he can say anything. “You didn’t even ask; you just jumped to conclusions.” I finish cleaning Z’s wound then look at Wes again. “Then you show up at my house and ask me to doyou a favor, refusing to tell me anything. So, yes, this is the last time we see each other. I think it’s obvious we have no reason to stay in contact,” I mutter the last part then frown when I see Z is smiling at me.
“You are so fucked, brother,” he mumbles, looking at Wes. I ignore them both and start to thread up the needle. It doesn’t take long to get the wound closed up, and I’m surprised that Z doesn’t even flinch as I work on him. By the time I’m done putting a bandage over the wound, the sun is beginning to rise, casting an orange glow throughout the room, and my eyes are so heavy I can barely keep them open.
“Thanks, girly,” Z rumbles, standing up.
I sway on my feet in front of him, and a hand slides around my waist and Wes leads me back toward my bedroom. “Go wash up and go to bed, babe. I’ll clean the mess up.” I nod, not even caring. At this point, my body is completely exhausted. I’m running on empty, and not even coffee could help me now.
I go into my bathroom and take a quick shower then put on my robe from the back of my bathroom door, not even bothering with clothes, and climb into bed, where I immediately fall asleep.
I wake up to the smell of bacon, and roll to my side, coming face-to-face with Capone, who is looking at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
“What are you doing here?” I sit up and look at the clock, seeing it’s after three in the afternoon, and then look around the room, making sure I didn’t just dream that I came home last night.
Capone climbs into my lap and licks my cheek then jumps off the bed and leaves out of the small gap in the door.
