“Someone has to be there when things go wrong. When people need help. Someone has to...”
Cracked.
Turned away, twisting the rag with too much force. Water splashed into the basin.
“I chose nursing because...” Started. Stopped. Started again. “Because I’ve always been the person who shows up when things are bad. The one who stays. Who doesn’t...”
Couldn’t finish. The words stuck.
Xavier waited. Patient. Not pushing. Just there.
“Lost someone once.” Barely a whisper. “Someone I should have saved. They needed me and I wasn’t there. Thought I had more time. Told them to wait. They couldn’t wait.”
A beloved face flashed in my mind.
Xavier’s hand found mine again. Covered it completely. Warm. Solid. Real.
Vision blurred. Had to look away before something broke.
“So now I don’t make people wait. I show up. Even when it’s stupid. Even when it’s dangerous. Even when harboring fugitives and committing felonies.” Forced brightness into the words. Forced the crack to seal. “Because that’s what we do, right? We save the idiots who can’t save themselves.”
Too much. Said too much. Showed too much.
Cleared my throat, pulled away gently. Rebuilt the walls with sarcasm like armor.
“So yeah. That’s why I’m here giving you a sponge bath instead of, you know, calling the cops like a reasonable person would. Excellent life choices. Gold star decision-making. My guidance counselor would be so proud.”
Xavier’s expression said he saw right through it.
I grabbed the rag, twisted it harder than necessary. “Anyway. Enough trauma dumping. Let’s focus on getting you clean instead of getting feelings all over the place.”
Started on his other arm, needing the distraction, needing to not see sympathy or understanding or whatever made my ribs ache.
But my fingers weren’t quite steady anymore.
And he was still studying me like he could see every crack in the facade.
Kept working. Kept my mouth shut this time. Rinsed in silence, squeezed out excess water, worked methodically across his skin. Trying to rebuild the clinical distance. Trying to shove down whatever had surged up when I’d confessed things I never talked about.
He didn’t stop looking at me. Reading me. Seeing too much.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
He didn’t stop.
“I mean it. I’m fine. We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
His eyebrow lifted. Calling bullshit without saying a word.
“Shut up.”
Almost-smile. Gentle this time. Understanding underneath that made my stomach flip.
I focused on his arm, cleaning wrist to shoulder with more attention than strictly necessary. Needing the task. Needing something to do besides touching his face, smoothing his hair, doing catastrophically stupid things.
The water had gone cold. Needed fresh. Needed to move, to breathe, to put space between us before I did something we’d both regret.
“I’m going to get clean water.” Stood too fast. The room tilted slightly. “For your legs. Since apparently I’m committed to this whole ‘keeping you alive’ thing.”
