“Hi.” It takes me a minute to pull my gaze from his and realise I’m in my living room, lying on my couch. The fog in my head clears as he swipes the warm cloth over my chest and then down my arm. I follow his hand as he washes away the bloody streaks from my skin with the softest caress. His tattooed fingers working their magic like before.
“Do you always faint? Is there a medical condition I should know about?” He opens my hand, places the warm cloth there.
“I thought you knew everything there was to know about me?” I roll my eyes and look away, then flinch as he swipes the flannel over my hand.
“Sorry. You had a thorn stuck in there.” He brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss there, his eyes not leaving mine as I glare at him.
My pulse quickens as he kisses another part of my hand, then returns to wiping the blood away. “Your shirt.”
He glances down at the small bloodstains on his chest. “I can replace it.” He examines my hand. “I think the bleeding’s stopped. Do you have a bandage?”
I lift myself onto my elbow, but Dan gently coaxes me back down.
“You stay there. Tell me where it is.”
“The kitchen cupboard. There’s a box on the top shelf full of first aid stuff.”
He rises to his feet, then disappears intothe kitchen.
I lean my head back on the arm of the sofa and rest my forearm over my eyes. What am I doing? I need help. Should’ve had therapy. I need therapy. Maybe I just need an orgasm. If my vagina was satisfied more often, I might not keep getting distracted by Dan.
Ugh, I hate him so much. I flex my hand, opening and closing my fingers. Blood creeps into the creases on my palm like a river carving out a path in the landscape. Only the blood on my hand fills my heart line and seeps into my fate line. Our relationship was doomed from the start. Even now, as I stare at my hand, our fate is covered in blood. This won’t end well for me.
“Is it bleeding again?” He kneels and opens my hand, cleaning the minor cuts, then places a large padded plaster over my palm. His thumb massages the edges, making sure it’s stuck down to my hand, his calloused fingers rough against my skin, but it feels good.
“I’m hypoglycaemic.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
Dan places a hand on my forehead as if checking for a temperature. “What does that mean?”
“It means I have low blood pressure and when I don’t eat, it causes dizzy spells.” I silently curse myself for skipping breakfast, but with everything going on with Mamma and seeing Dan again, food is the last thing on my mind.
“And when was the last time you ate?”
I shake my head. “In Rome, before the flight home.”
Dan’s lips press together as he rises to his feet. “Wait here.”
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you something to eat.” He storms out of the room and I’m left wondering how I’ve ended up in this situation with Dan in my home and now getting me food. I daren’t tell him I haven’t actually had it checked out. He’d probably drive me to the hospital right now. But I can’t affordto get diagnosed with any illness that’s going to ground me. And I definitely can’t afford to fall for him again.
14
DAN
Iroll my sleeves up as I pull a pan from her cupboard and place it on the hob with a clatter. The noise echoes like the thoughts in my head. I should have cut the thorns from the roses, should have read her medical report, should have been here for her before now. Should’ve never left. So many should haves.
“What did the pan ever do to you?” Rose leans against the worktop, propping her chin in her hand. She’s pale. Too pale. And still a little shaky on her feet—but she’s pretending she’s fine.
“I thought I told you to stay in the living room.” I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re not very good at following orders, are you?”
“I’m not one of your soldiers, Lieutenant.” Her brows pull inwards with a scowl.
I open the fridge and pour her a glass of juice. “Here, drink this and sit down before you fall down. Again.”
“Yes, sir.” She salutes me and climbs onto a breakfast bar stool, twisting the seat side to side as she sips her juice.
I can’t help but silently chuckle. What I’d do to spank herbackside. She should take better care of herself. “I’m not in the army anymore.”
