Lily looks up at me, and the swirl of emotions in her eyes is so complex I can’t decode it. Grief, embarrassment, gratitude, exhaustion.
“Thank you.” She uncurls from her position. “I appreciate it.”
I shift on my feet, unsure what to do with myself. “No problem. Happy to help.”
An awkward silence fogs up the room. I should go. She needs space, and I’ve already pushed enough sore buttons for one night.
“Well,” I say, jerking a thumb toward the door, “I’ll get out of your hair now.”
She stands, smoothing down her scrubs. “Sorry if I ruined your Friday night, and thanks again for fixing the sink. I’ll Venmo you for the part.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, waving off her offer. “Consider it a new neighbor gift from me.”
“You’re the new one,” she points out with a small smile. “I should give you welcome gifts.”
“Then you can buy me a coffee sometime,” I suggest, immediately wondering if I’ve pushed too far again.
But Lily doesn’t retreat. “Okay, but please still send me the invoice. I want Mr. Hagerty to reimburse you on principle.”
“Will do.” I wave with the arm that’s not holding the toolbox.
Lily’s gaze drops to my forearm, and she frowns. “Your bandage is dirty.”
I glance down and, yep, she’s right. The white gauze is smudged with grime from crawling under her sink. “It’s fine. I’ll change it when I get home.”
“I’ll clean it.” Her voice takes on that authoritative edge she had in the ER. “It’s the least I can do. Sit, I’ll go get my kit.”
I want to protest that there’s no need, but she’s already moving down the hall. I do as instructed, sinking onto her couch and trying not to imagine how many times she and Daniel sat here together, how many movies they watched, how many conversations they had.
Lily returns a moment later with a medical kit. She sits next to me, as far as she can while still being able to work on my wound, and motions for my arm. I extend it without hesitation.
No gloves this time, but I can smell the antiseptic she’s used to clean her hands. Without the plastic barrier, her touch is electric; it fries my entire right side. Our eyes meet, and… is she feeling it, too?
Probably not.
Hell, I’ve reverted to being an inexperienced teenage boy, heart racing just because a pretty girl is touching me. It’s ridiculous. I’m a grown man getting flustered over skin contact. Lily is just patching me up, but it feels more than that. Like she’s taking care of me. Every cell in my body is tuned in to her. I can’t decide if I want to laugh at myself or bolt for the door. And the worst part is that she doesn’t even notice she’s turning me inside out.
She undoes the bandage, making a displeased noise when she sees the wound underneath. “Have you been changing this every day, like I told you?”
Her eyes narrow on me.
I make an apologetic face. “Maybe every other day?”
Her scowl deepens, so I add, “It’s hard to do it one-armed.”
“Couldn’t the paramedics at the station help you?” she asks, gently cleaning around the stitches. “Or one of your squad mates?”
I sigh dramatically. “Ah. Well, I’m the new lieutenant who got injured on the first day like a total rookie. I prefer not to draw attention to that fact.”
Lily’s eye roll is so spectacular her eyes might leave her skull. “I won’t comment on male vulnerability,” she says with exaggerated patience, “but you need to change the dressing every day.” She pauses, then adds, “If you come over, I’ll do it.”
The offer surprises me. “I don’t want to impose.” And I mean it despite how much I’d like to see her again.
“If I get free plumbing,” she replies pragmatically, “you get free nursing. It’s only fair.”
I can’t help but smile at that. “Okay, Nurse Finnigan, deal.”
She nods and continues working, cleaning the wound, applying antibiotic cream with a cotton disc, and wrapping it with a fresh bandage. Her fingertips are so light I can barely feel the contact, but somehow it’s the only thing that exists in my world.
