"You don’t need to?—"
"I've got a first aid kit in the truck.Let me grab it, it won't take long."
Her jaw tensed, but she didn't argue.I took that as permission and headed back outside, grabbing the first-aid kit from the cab and returning to find her standing in the same spot, still holding her hand like she could will it to stop bleeding through sheer stubbornness.
"Kitchen?"I asked.
"This way."
She led me down the hallway, flicking on lights as she went.The house smelled like dust and old wood and something faintly citrusy.Maybe it was lemon oil her Aunt Lois used to polish the woodwork.The kitchen was cold and Claire moved to the sink.
I set the kit on the counter and turned on the tap, testing the temperature before nodding toward the stream of water."Rinse it first."
She obeyed, wincing as the water hit the cut.It wasn't deep, but it was a nice, clean slice across her palm that would need cleaning and wrapping.I pulled out gauze, antiseptic, and tape, laying them out in a neat row while she dried her hand on a dish towel that had seen better days.
"Now, sit."
"I can do this myself."
"I know you can."
That stopped her.She looked at me, something unreadable flickering across her face, and then she sat.
I pulled a chair close and took her hand in mine, palm up.Her skin was soft, warmer than I expected, and I had to force myself to focus on the injury instead of the way her fingers curled slightly against my wrist.
"This is going to sting," I said, uncapping the antiseptic.
"I've had worse."
I didn't doubt it.I dabbed the cut clean, working carefully while she sat perfectly still, barely breathing.When I wrapped the gauze around her palm and secured it with tape, she finally exhaled.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
I didn't let go right away.Couldn't, for reasons I wasn't ready to think about.Her hand sat in mine, small and warm and real, and I had the sudden, irrational urge to keep it there.
She pulled back first, tucking her bandaged hand against her stomach."I'm back to settle Aunt Lois's estate.For some reason, she named me executor."
"How long are you staying?"
"However long it takes."
That could mean weeks.Months, even, depending on how complicated Lois's affairs were.The thought settled somewhere behind my ribs, equal parts anticipation and concern.
"Are you planning to stay here?"I asked.
"It's my house now.Technically."
"It's cold."
"I'll figure it out."
Of course she would.Claire Hollister had always been the kind of person who figured things out on her own, even when she didn't have to.Even when it would've been easier to ask for help.
I stood, gathering the first-aid supplies and tucking them back into the kit."If you need anything?—"
"I'll be fine, Torin."
