Keeping the basin under his arm, she splashed a liberal amount of the liquid over the gashes.
Enoch hissed through his teeth at the first touch but held himself still as she worked. She could feel the tension thrumming through him, the barely leashed power in his muscles. Like a wild thing, only half-tamed.
As she cleaned the wounds, she studied the scars marking his skin farther down his arm—old wounds, long healed. What other hurts had he endured in his life? Had these affected his body only? Or his heart too?
When the wounds were clean, she threaded a needle, her hands surprisingly steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside her. She’d never stitched a person before, only fabric. But the principle was the same, wasn’t it? In and out, neat and even.
She took a deep breath and bent over his arm, the needle poised. “Ready?”
“Get on with it.” The words were a low growl.
The first pierce of the needle made him flinch, a barely perceptible tightening of his jaw. But he held himself still as she worked, stitching the wound closed with tiny movements. Blood welled up, staining her fingers, but she dabbed it away and kept going.
In and out, a steady rhythm, until the gash was sealed with a line of neat stitches.
She tied off the thread and snipped the excess, then applied salve and reached for the bandages. As she wound the strips of cotton around his arm, her fingertips brushed the inside of his arm, feeling the heat of him, the thrum of his pulse.
Enoch watched her work, his gaze heavy on her bent head. She could feel the weight of it, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between them.
When the last bandage was secured, she straightened, meeting his eyes. “There. That should hold.”
“Thank you.” His voice was a low rumble, like distant thunder.
Mandie nodded. They were so close. She couldn’t help but watch from the corner of her eye as his bare chest rose and fellwith each breath. Did she dare ask him what he’d been about to say in the cave?
She could still feel his arms around her as he’d held her close, the raw vulnerability in his voice when he’d said he didn’t know how to do this. Whateverthiswas.
She sank into the chair around the corner from his and placed her hands on the table to draw his focus to her. Before she could lose her courage, she spoke. “What did you mean in the cave when you said you didn’t know how to do this?”
Enoch’s gaze dropped to her hands on the table, then lifted back to her face. In the soft light from the window, the planes and angles of his features seemed even more chiseled, as if carved from stone. But there was a vulnerability in his eyes, a rawness that made her heart ache.
He exhaled, a long breath. “I don’t know how to let someone in, Mandie. How to...care for someone, and still prepare to lose them.”
Mandie’s throat tightened. She could hear the old pain in his voice, the wounds that went soul-deep. “You’ve lost someone before.”
Enoch’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking near his eye. “My mother, when I was a boy. And my father, in a way, when he left us here and went back to England.”
Her chest squeezed. She wanted to reach out and place her hand on his, to offer comfort. But something in his expression made it seem like there was more.
His gaze turned distant, focused on some point beyond her. His throat worked, like he was fighting with himself over whether to say the rest. When he spoke, a rasp roughened his voice. “I was to be married once, but she was taken too. Her entire family, in a wagon accident.” His eyes hardened as he flicked them back to her. “Mrs. Wang’s husband when his heartgave out. And most recently, my older brother, leaving me to take on a life I never wanted.”
His tone had lost all softness by the end, and his eyes flashed. “It took me a while to learn not to get too attached. But I’ve finally taken the lesson well.”
Her heart cracked at the pain in his words, the raw anguish beneath his hard gaze. How could one man bear so much loss, so much sorrow, and still stand tall? Still find the strength to care for his family, his land, even if he tried to hold himself apart?
She reached across the table, slowly, giving him time to pull away. When he didn’t, she laid her hand over his, feeling the roughness of his knuckles, the strength in his fingers. “I’m so sorry, Enoch. I can’t imagine the hurt you’ve endured.”
He stared at their joined hands, his jaw working. “It’s in the past. I’ve learned to live with it.”
“But you haven’t learned to live beyond it.” She gentled her tone, willing him to hear her. “You’ve closed yourself off, thinking it will protect you. But all it’s doing is keeping you from the thing you need most.”
His gaze flicked up to hers, wary. “And what’s that?”
“Love.” The word hung between them, soft but unyielding. “Connection. The knowledge that you’re not alone, even in your pain.”
Enoch’s hand tensed under hers, but he didn’t pull away. “I have my family. My brothers.”
“And they love you. Fiercely. But you hold even them at a distance. Always the strong one, the caretaker, never letting them see your own hurts and needs.” Mandie swallowed. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Enoch. You’re allowed to lean on others. To let them help carry your burdens.”
