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His eyes move quickly across my face, my arms, my shoulder.
Checking for injuries.
“You okay?”
I try to nod.
Pain shoots through my shoulder again.
I wince.
“Mostly.”
His expression tightens.
“Mostly isn’t good enough.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
He steps closer.
Careful now.
Gentler.
Like I might break.
“You’re bleeding.”
I glance down.
My sleeve is torn.
Blood soaking through the fabric near my shoulder.
“Just a scratch.”
Russ walks over.
“That’s not a scratch.”
Adam looks toward the cabin.
“Inside.”
“Now.”
Boone places a hand lightly on my back.
Guiding me toward the porch.
Not pushing.
Just steady.
The way someone does when they don’t want you falling apart.
