It smells like sage and dirt. Fuel and leather.
“Em, look at me.”
“You … called me your boyfriend,” I whisper to his pumping chest.
Tristen jolts like I physically touched him with the words that startle me just the same and it knocks him back on his ass.
The moment is loaded, the silence stretching between us like a tangible thing I could reach out and grab. Yank back and hope that my words come back with it.
I don’t even know why I said it. Why that matters.
He didn’t mean it.
No one wants me like that.
“I …” He clears his throat and when I risk a glance at him, he’s staring off. Running his thumb nail beneath the one on his forefinger. Brown eyes growing more and more distant with each passing second.
“Never mind,” I cut in before he says anything else. “Thanks for standing up for me.”
My head swims when I jump to my feet, my vision clouding then clearing as I brush my hands off. Then some of the dirt from my pants.
The dried blood rubs off and red smears across my palms.
“Shit, Em. Let me look at that.”
“It’s fine,” I mutter and ball my fists up against my chest.
That doesn’t stop him from reaching for my wrists, the rough pads of his fingers barely grazing over my skin, though it feels like he’s made of coals. Slowly, so very slowly, he wraps his grip around me, turning my fists over.
He steps closer.
“Let me see, please?”
My heart feels like it’s going to pop.
I swallow hard against the lump forming in my throat.
His scent, too much and not enough all at once, fills in around me like the hospital blanket, like a safe space, and my fingers loosen. Uncurl. Show him the tiny cuts marking my skin.
My stomach rolls at the sight of blood, the burn of the scrapes throbbing when my heart rate kicks back up into overdrive.
“Burns, Tristen,” I mutter, my eyes stinging. “It’s not supposed to burn.”
He nods and pulls my right hand closer to his face. “That’s normal. There’s dirt and shit in there.”
Lips pursing, Tristen blows a light breath over the broken skin and it’s like ice to the fire I hold. He repeats the same thing to the other one, gentle with his handling, caring in his nature.
My lip wobbles.
“We should get these cleaned up.”
“Okay.”
Dipping to meet my gaze, Tristen offers a soft smile. “I am sorry, Em. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
I sniff and nod.
“I know. It’s fine.”
