I zip it back up and grab the hand towel off the rail before rejoining Owen in the living room. “Can you sew me up?”
“Sew you up? What, like you’re a pin cushion?”
“Kinda. You know how Maria liked to do those embroideries and you used to help? It will be like that.”
“Oh God, thanks for reminding me that I helped her knit,” he groans as he leans forward, taking the first aid kit out of my hands and unzips it.
I place the towel on the table and start to unwrap my bandaged arm while Owen starts to unpack the items in the kit.
“It was cute. This will be exactly like that, but I’m the thing you’re sewing.”
He looks nervous. Taking his hand in mine, I squeeze.
“I’ll try and do it myself, but I don’t think I can reach fully. I’m going to need you to help me.”
“Okay,” he says, his cheeks inflating as he puffs out a breath in a sigh.
I pull out some saline solution that’s in a tube and rip the top off with my teeth, passing it to him.
“You need to clean it first. Just squirt this all into it.” I pull my top off over my head and sit facing him in my bra. His eyes drop to my cleavage and then back up, meeting my eyes.
“Sorry,” he grumbles, “but you’ve got an amazing pair of tits.”
I roll my eyes, but grin at the same time.
The liquid is cold as he does as instructed, squirting the liquid over the wound. The sharp sting makes me pull a breath through gritted teeth.
“Fuck, I forgot how much that stuff stings,” I hiss and puff out a breath. He throws the empty tube onto the towel and picks up the suture kit, handing it to me.
“I’ll start so you watch what I do, then you’ll have to take over.” I take the thread and place it through the curved needle. “Can you wipe it?” I ask Owen.
He takes some gauze and gently touches it to my wound. His other hand rests against my leg, the warmth seeping in through my pyjama bottoms.
“This is not how I thought this evening would play out,” I mutter as I take the needle and pierce it through my tender skin. I do the same on the opposite side of the wound, pulling the gash together. I hiss out again and close my eyes, breathing through my nose as the pain shoots through me.
“Jesus fuck.” I pause with a flinch.Come on, Kara, you can do this.I take another breath before repeating the move. I’m fully immersed in the task, but as I get to the messier part, I have to stop.
“I can’t.” I flop back onto the sofa, lightheaded. “I need you to do this,” I mutter as I close my eyes to the lights.
Owen shifts on the sofa as I feel him move closer. “You were always so terrible when it was your own blood.”
I pry open one of my eyes and turn my head to the left, seeing Owen kneeling on the floor beside me.
“Some things never change. Do you know what you’re doing now?”
“Absolutely no idea.” He gets a cute little frown line on his face as he leans forward, taking the needle in his thumb and index finger.
“I’ve done the hard bit, keep doing what I was doing, I’m just going to close my eyes and pretend I’m on a beach,” I groan when he tugs at the thread, starting to pull it through.
“How often do you end up having to stitch yourself up?”
“More times than I care to admit. If I could only man up around my own blood, I’d save myself a lot of lectures from Andrews.”
“He’s your boss?”
“Kinda,” I answer. “We met when I was a teenager. He helped me.”
“Andrews did?” I can hear the surprise in his voice.
