Closing my eyes as he brushes my hair back from my face to get a better look at the damage, I can’t help but inhale his scent—sandalwood and fresh laundry, with a sharp note of citrus. Masculine and comforting. Perfectly Wes.
“I just can’t believe…” he murmurs, then trails off like he’s rethinking whatever he was about to say.
My eyes flutter open. “What?” I whisper, searching his face like the rest of his sentence might be written there.
He shuts his eyes and exhales slowly, centering himself. When he opens them again, those dark irises bore into mine. “I just can’t believe someone would hurt you.”
Our gazes hold for a moment, and then I shift my focus down to the floor. “You’d be surprised,” I mutter, the comment slipping out before I can check it.
“What do you mean by that?” he asks softly.
Saving me from coming up with a response, Ben arrives at the door, holding a bag of frozen peas in one hand, a tall glass of water in the other, and an anxious expression on his face. “Where do you want these?”
Wes gestures to the counter beside my hip. “Can you put them there while I finish up? Thanks, man.”
“Sure thing, Doc. You’re in good hands, Ivy. This guy once fixed up my finger when I cut it in the kitchen. Probably would have needed stitches otherwise. He also saved Paul from choking sophomore year,andhe nursed a bird back to health. It had a broken wing.”
I look at Wes, my eyebrows rising. “A bird?”
Wes shrugs, a smile playing at his mouth. “What else was I supposed to do? Leave him there?”
“Or she,” says Ben. “We never figured out the gender.”
I nearly crack a smile of my own, but wince when the wound on my chin starts to sting. “Ouch,” I murmur, making Wes frown. A deep crease forms between his brows, and I wish I could reach up and smooth it out.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” says Ben. “There are two more bags of frozen veggies in the freezer if you want to keep switching them out. Holler if you need anything, Ivy. We’ve got you.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
Ben nods and leaves the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Wes continues his work in silence, and when he’s done, I mourn the loss of his touch. In Wes’s careful hands, I actually feel like someone worth holding.
“Okay, Ultimate Fighter.” He squeezes my knee before passing me the frozen peas. “You need to ice that eye for twenty minutes every hour.”
“Okay,” I mumble, wincing again as I press the bag to my eye.
“Which would you rather take, the bed or the couch? I’ll sleep on the other.”
“The couch,” I say adamantly. “I don’t think you’ll fit on it.”
He frowns, clearly unhappy with my answer. “Are you sure? You should really take the bed.”
“Wes. No. The couch is great.” When he looks like he’s going to protest again, I reach out and grab his wrist with my free hand. “Really.”
He sighs, but eventually nods. “Okay, couch it is. Do you want to take a shower? We’ve got shit water pressure, but a tropical citrus body wash that will blow you away. I’m not kidding. Makes my mouth water every time I use it.”
“I’m okay,” I tell him, glad to hear some of the usual verve back in his tone. “But…”
“But?” His gaze turns intent, eyes roaming my face as he tries to decipher what’s wrong. “What do you need?”
I clear my throat, feeling a bit awkward now. “Can I, um, borrow something to sleep in? A t-shirt and shorts, maybe? There’s no way I can sleep in jeans.”
“Done. Anything else? I don’t have a spare toothbrush, but one of the guys might. Want me to check?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t mind.”
“I’m really sorry about this.”
