I wrap my arms around his waist, but don’t let myself really sink into him to keep with the promise I made last night. “I’m feeling okay. How about you?”
“Exhausted.” He releases me to grab my hand. “Let’s get this rewrapped, and then we can eat before they get here.”
I follow him to where he dropped the first-aid kit on the counter, and peek around his shoulder while he unzips the red canvas bag to survey its contents.
“I can do it myself,” I say, but he ignores me and starts setting aside some antiseptic wipes, gauze, and tape on the counter. “I don’t need all of that, I can just wash it again and use a few new Band-Aids.”
“Band-Aids aren’t going to cut it,” he says. “You need pressure to keep it from splitting back open. And this wipe will clean the area a lot better than that scented bar soap will.”
He has a point. I reach for the supplies and plan to take them back into my room to do it myself, but he stops me before I can swipe them.
“Let me help you, Drew. Please?”
I ignore his plea and try to reach around him again, which he deftly blocks with his body. “Seriously, Cameron. I’ve got it,” I say, growing impatient. “Just let me have the supplies.”
I huff when it becomes clear that he’s not going to give up that easily, and cross my arms to meet his gaze, prepared to fight with him until I win. But when our eyes meet, I instantly deflate.
“Please let me help you,” he begs. “I know you said you weren’t upset about how I acted back at the house, but I’ve been miserable all night thinking about how badly I let you down. When Jalen told me that you ended up giving a statement and had to do it alone with Detective Harvey of all people—” He shakes his head like the image is physically painful. “The least I can do to make it up to you is help you rebandage your cut. Please, let me do this for you.”
“Cameron, I already told you that you did nothing wrong.”
For him to think that I’d be upset or turned off by him having a weak moment couldn’t be further from the truth. If anything, it just made me care about him even more, which is precisely the problem. In our silent standoff, I see how much letting him do this small act will mean to him, so I concede and offer up my hand. His lips turn up at the small victory, and he gets to work pulling on a pair of protective gloves from the first-aid kit.
I have to turn away to hide the amusement on my face when the gloves are at least two sizes too small and try to think about something else so that I don’t linger on how adorable his concentration face is.
Looking away doesn’t cut it, though, because the second his fingers brush mine as he works to remove the layers of Band-Aids from my thumb, that electric current that flows between us crackles across my skin again, and I find myself wanting to look so I can see if he feels it too. When I sneak a glance, his brow is slightly pinched in concentration as he removes the final Band-Aid gently enough to keep my cut from separating again. I reach for the antiseptic towelette to help, but he guides my hand away and gets it himself, cleaning my cut and then wrapping it with gauze, and finishing the job by taping it securely together.
“Does that feel secure?”
I move my thumb at the joint, noting that it does feel a lot more secure in its new wrap. “Yes, thank you.”
“Are you still in pain?”
“A little.”
Before I can blink, he pulls out an individual-dose packet of Tylenol from the kit and rips it open. I hold out my other hand so that he can drop the pills into my palm, and he hands over a perfectly made chocolate-covered strawberry latte from the cardboard drink carrier for me to take them with.
I tilt my head as I look at the hazelnut hearts drawn on the side of the cup. “I thought the guy said yesterday was the last time they’d have that drink on the menu?”
Cameron shrugs. “Perks of being an investor, I guess.”
A memory of something Val told me in the bathroom when we were hiding out from one of Delaney and Judith’s fights resurfaces, about how she read online that Cameron was involved in a few local businesses. She also said that her research suggested that he wasn’t a very good lawyer, but I push thatdetail aside and chase the pills with the latte, unable to stop the appreciative sound in my throat when I am reminded of how incredibly delicious it is.
“This drink is a masterpiece,” I say, then go right back in for another sip.
He smiles like a proud dad. “I’m happy to get you one anytime you want it.”
“That’s a big promise . . .” I start, but Cameron pulls his phone out of his back pocket.
“One second,” he says, and scans a text. “My partner at the firm just arrived; he’s in the lobby. If Jalen comes while I’m gone, don’t let him steal our egg bites.”
I laugh. “Which ones are ours?”
“The bacon cheddar ones. He always orders the spinach egg white and then tries to steal mine.”
“Protect the egg bites. Got it.”
He smiles again and leans in like he’s going to kiss me. I stiffen and divert my gaze just in time so that he kisses my temple instead.
