He shrugs off the jacket. Several white envelopes spill out from a pocket. He moves the bloody shirt and shows me a long gash in his ribs.
I pull back, shaking my head. “No way.”
“I already did the disinfecting. There’s medical-grade needle and thread in those.” He nods at the envelopes. “Rip them open. Needle’s already prepped and sterile. Push in one side and out the other. Pull it closed, tie it off with two loops, and cut it off. Keep the stitches close together.”
My pulse races into my throat. I stare at the wound. It’s long and deep. “You’re going to need a dozen.”
“Better get started.” He reaches down and pulls out a bottle from his jacket. He pops the top and dry swallows several pills. “Be gentle with me, darling.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter, picking up the envelopes and ripping them open.
This can’t be happening. My hands are shaking as I hold the needle over the wound. He stares at me, completely calm. Whatever drugs he took must be having an effect. He smiles slightly and tilts his head. Blood oozes slowly from the wound.
“Go ahead, baby,” he whispers.
“Why can’t you go to a doctor again?”
“You know why.”
I close my eyes. God, I know, I just don’t want to admit it.
I jab the needle into his flesh.
It’s not so bad, really. He barely makes a sound and keeps extremely still. The first couple of stitches are clumsy and not good, but he coaches me through it. By the fifth, I feel like I’m getting the hang of it.
Until Gem pounds on the door. “Kira? Are you still in the shower? I need to brush my teeth.”
“Almost done!” I sound shrill and terrified. Stellan’s leaning back against the toilet, grinning at me. He waggles his eyebrows. I put a finger to my lips, glaring hard so he understands this isn’t a joke. “Make some breakfast. I had a pretty nasty shift.”
“Oh god, did someone puke on you again?”
“Yep, just lots of puke! I need a deep scrub, okay?”
“Do what you gotta do. Love you.”
I wait a second until she’s gone. Then I lean in close.
“If she catches you here, I swear, I’ll stab you in the eye with this needle.”
“I love the way you flirt with me, baby.”
My jaw tightens, but I get back to work.
The last few stitches go smoothly. He makes no noise and doesn’t complain. It’s honestly incredible. I’m guessing the pills helped, but his eyes are filled with agony. He’s suffering in silence, despite how badly this hurts.
I cut off the last stitch. “That should do.”
“There’s a bandage in the other envelope.”
I get it out and tape it on. When I’m done, he gingerly shrugs his jacket back on. I clean everything up, wrap it in his ruined, bloody shirt, and shove it into the trash under some old pad wrappers.
I put a finger on his chest and lean in close. I can’t believe how quickly I’ve gotten used to touching him. His skin’s warm and smooth, though there are a dozen pocked and puckered scars all over his chest and stomach. I didn’t notice them at first, but now I wonder how many times he’s done this.
“Follow me in a second. You go into my room. You keep the door shut and stay quiet until Gem leaves. Got it?”
“Thank you.” His earnestness is disarming. “You’re beautiful.”
“You’re drugged. Just stay quiet.” I slip out of the bathroom, make sure Gem’s busy in the kitchen, and gesture for Stellan to follow. He drifts past me, silent as a ghost. For a man his size, he’s shockingly stealthy as he slips into my bedroom and lightly closes my door. I catch a glimpse of his smirk before the door closes all the way.
