“Let me.” I set my stuff on the ground and yanked at the door. It was jammed hard and took three tries before it opened. The tarp lay folded in the corner—because how else would Becca store it? The woman sorted her food and ate all her potatoes before moving on to something else.Why do I remember this date from two years ago so well?
I shook the thoughts from my mind and cleared my throat. “Here.” I handed her the tarp and shut the difficult doors. “Care to show me the room with the damage?”
“Please. I love Becs but it looked bad, and I don’t want her hurting herself. She’s helpful, really, but pretty clumsy.”
“That’s putting it nicely.” The woman fell on my porch not twenty minutes ago.
The girl laughed. I followed her into the brick house, through a living room three times the size of mine, and up a spiral staircase that reminded me of the movies. Pictures with girls all wearing light blue shirts covered the walls. It looked like different graduating classes, but I just saw hundreds of girls in the same pose. If the lighting was dark, it would’ve been a little creepy. The stairs creaked with my weight, and I studied the railing and photos to make sure they were secure. With a quick check, they proved sturdy, and it pleased me.
The house was well taken care of, but that wasn’t a surprise. Becca cared deeply about her job. Our passion for our work was about the only thing we had in common, justifying why that one date did not lead to two.
“It’s on the third floor.”
I nodded and continued following the young woman. The cold air blasted my face the second we stepped onto the top floor, and I sucked in a breath. It was a small, narrow hallway with three rooms on each side.
The girl pointed to the first door and opened her mouth to say something when she paled. “Becca! Oh my God!” She darted into the room with me right behind her. The young woman bent over the bed, her voice squealing. “She got hurt!”
“Let me see,” I commanded, assessing the scene and taking note of what could’ve happened. The young woman didn’t wait a second before jumping out of the way and providing me with a view of my neighbor. My heart leaped into my throat. She lay there, eyes closed and her creamy skin pale and covered in blood. Her jacket and shirt hung halfway off, giving me a view of her silky bra.Shit!She’d passed out.
“Do you have a first aid kit? Something to clean the blood?” I asked as I sat on the edge of the bed, noticing for the first time the glass shard in her arm.What did you do, Becca?“Tweezers, too?”
“Uh, yeah. I think. Um… what?” the young woman stuttered, her concern for Becca almost tangible. A part of me wondered how my players would feel if I ever got hurt. Would they care? Help? Notice?
Not the time.
“Tweezers, first aid kit. Hurry.” I jutted my chin toward the door.
The young woman rushed out of the room, and I removed my gloves and coat. I touched the side of Becca’s neck. Her pulse beat strong, thank God, but her soft skin was freezing cold.
I set my jacket over her torso, carefully avoiding the spot in her upper arm. With a soft shake of her uninjured arm, I asked, “Becs, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Not great.
The shard was a few inches long, and the sight of it impaling her skin made my stomach churn. She should be obnoxiously happy, spouting off about all the good things in the world… not pale as hell and covered in blood.
Her silence was jarring. While her incessant gabbing could go from charming to annoying in a second, I much preferred hearing her voice than not. I carefully cupped the back of her head with my hands and traced her jawline with my fingers, trying to be gentle. The last thing I wanted was to scare her.
“Becca.”
Her eyelids fluttered, a soft groan escaping. If it were any other time, in any other situation, that sound would’ve driven me wild. But this was now, and she was hurt. “Becca, you passed out. Can you hear me?”
“S-what?” she mumbled, lightly moving in my hands, her teeth chattering and her lips pressing together. “It’s c-cold.”
“I put my coat over you, but I need you to stay put until we remove the glass from your arm.”
“Window. Four steps. I… I… clean, repair, insurance, phone.”
Damn.She was cute. I smiled, the foreign gesture almost hurting my face. I moved my fingers over her neck, hoping to… what? Warm her? Help her? The need to keep touching her grew stronger.
“I’ll help you with the window. Can you open your eyes for me?”
“Maybe?” Her lids fluttered open but then closed again.
“I think you can.” I pressed my lips together, preventing a laugh from escaping.
“Are you the window man?”
