“Yeah, I saw. The gun recoiled and got you by surprise.”
Recoil? I guess I should have expected it, but I truly know very little about guns.
“I didn’t think about the recoil.” My voice goes down, barely above a whisper. “I’m such an idiot.”
Colsen’s fingers close over my shoulder, squeezing in a comforting gesture. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s obvious that you didn’t know how to shoot. If you didn’t know about the safety, I should have expected that you might not know about the recoil. I should have warned you. This is all my fault.”
I keep wiping off the blood, but more comes out straight away.
“This cut is bigger and deeper than I thought. I think you might need stitches.”
Tucker’s sun kissed skin had already lost some color, probably because of the shock. He pales even further when I mention stitches.
CHAPTER TEN
BLACK WIDOW
TUCKER
“No, I bet it’s ok.” I say, feeling my pulse quicken. “Let’s try a bandaid. I just really wanted to go on the Ferris wheel with you.”
Taryn’s tongue comes out to lick the side of her bottom lip that’s already starting to swell up. “I don’t really think a bandaid will be enough.”
“You should listen to Taryn,” Colsen intervenes. “Did you hear that she’s a nurse? Her opinion is more educated than yours on these kinds of things.”
“You should keep your mouth shut.” I glare at my best friend. “This is all your fault. You should have told Taryn about the recoil. Look what you did to her lip.”
My words hit their intended target.
“Fuck.” Colsen hangs his head. “You’re right. I should have warned Taryn. Does it hurt, pretty girl?” He turns to look at her, brushing the pad of his thumb over her bruised bottom lip.
“Just a little. But I’ll live. Tucker, I can put a bandaid on that wound for now; it’s better than nothing until we get to the ER. But if you don’t get stitches, it’ll keep bleeding.”
“I don’t want to get stitches.” I insist. “I’ll be fine with a bandaid, maybe a sterile dressing or something.”
But if I’m stubborn, I think I might have found my match in Taryn.
“It won’t be fine. You have practice tomorrow. You can’t be sure that you won’t be told to do something that will make that wound open again. It’s right by your knee. If you bend it or put a strain on it, you’ll start bleeding again. Unless you’re going to ask your coach to sit tomorrow’s practice out.”
Fuck. I hadn’t thought about that. If I tell Coach that I got nicked in the leg by a stray BB gun bullet, my fear of needles will be the least of my problems. “Coach will kill me. Is there any way to make this better without stitches?” I ask.
Taryn’s delicate brows knit together. “Why is it so important not to get stitches?”
My best friend, the fucking traitor, snitches on me. “Tucker has a phobia of needles and blood. I’m surprised he hasn’t fainted. Anything more than a paper cut and he might lose his dinner.”
“Thanks, asshole.” I grumble. “If anyone should get stitches, it’s you.”
“Me? You’re the one who’s bleeding. Did you hit your head when you lost your balance?”
I glare at him. “No. But snitches get stitches, am I right?”
Colsen barks out a laugh. “You’re such a baby. Just stop whining and get stitched up.”
I don’t say anything as I feel cold sweat on my upper lip. I know Colsen and Taryn are right. “Ok. I guess.”
Taryn wraps her arm around my shoulders, and this time I shudder for an entirely different reason than the blood staining the gauze that she’s pressing against my wound.
Her soft, perfect tits are brushing against my arm and she smells so fucking good.
