“You alright?” I lift an eyebrow.
“I…” He clutches his elbow and tries to flash me a grin, but it comes out as a half-frown. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
It sure as hell doesn’t look like nothing. I snatch the bag with our stuff from the small table and throw it to Tommy.
“Shit! The fuck man?” Tommy struggles to catch it, but somehow manages. His eyebrows bunch together and he presses his lips into a tight line as if he’s in pain, but more importantly, there is now a wet spot of blood on his left elbow.
The smartass is hurt, isn’t he? Why the hell is he trying to hide it?
I fish out the first-aid kit from the cupboard under the sink. “You are hurt. Show me.”
“It’s nothing, really. Let’s go. You said it’s not safe here.”
It’s not, but I also can’t risk dealing with an infection later. Who knows how bad the injury is?
“Sit down and show me.” I gesture toward the couch.
“I’m fine, seriously.”
I click my tongue, getting annoyed now, and level him with a hard look. “You agreed to do as I say. Stop protesting and let me treat it now so it doesn’t become a problem later. I’d hate to have to chop off your arm because you were careless.”
Tommy’s blue eyes go wide. They match the color of the sky on a sunny, cloudless day, and they make me crave the warm sunshine on my skin. For a moment, I’mtransported back into the past, to a time when I was proud and cocky. I am sipping ouzo in the rose garden on the hill, watching the ships and boats sway in the turquoise Mediterranean Sea as salty air kisses my cheeks. This is one of the last peaceful moments of my prior life, a reprieve I didn’t dare remember all these years.
“No way. You are joking,” Tommy huffs out, hugging himself as a shadow of doubt worms its way into his features. “Right?”
“I am not.” I sit on the couch and pat the space next to me. Then I pull out the disinfectant and some bandages from the first-aid kit. “Now let me have a look.”
Begrudgingly, Tommy sits down and takes off the shirt, removing the piece of cloth he’s wrapped around his elbow. A nasty cut runs through it, bleeding profusely. It doesn’t look too deep, but not treating it properly can still cause all kinds of complications.
“I’m gonna count to three. This is gonna sting a bit,” I explain, dousing the wound immediately.
“Jesus Christ!” Tommy shoots up, groaning in pain. “You said you’d count to three! What the fuck? This burns like a motherfucker!”
“I lied.” I wrinkle my nose. Wetting some cotton with more disinfectant, I grab Tommy’s wrist and pull him back down to the couch. “Press this to the wound.”
As he complies, I get the bandages ready. Once I’ve wrapped them around the cut and secured them in place, Tommy puts his shirt back on.
“Um, this is ruined. Sorry… And thanks for treating my cut.” He lifts his arm to inspect the dried blood. It has trickled further down the fabric, making it impossible to conceal.
That won’t do. I toss the car keys to Tommy. “Get the car running. I’ll be a moment.”
“O-okay.”
I swing by the bedroom once more. All I find is a black hoodie, but it’s better than walking around in a bloodied shirt even if it means dying from the heat. Once we change cars and pass the border, we can probably get Tommy some clothes that fit him.
“Here, put this on. It will be a bit hot, but at least it won’t look like you murdered somebody.” I settle in the driver’s seat. The car is on, just like I instructed.
Tommy grins and takes off the shirt. “Except that I was the one who almost got offed.”
I freeze, unable to take my eyes off the expanse of pale skin that reveals itself to me. It looks so silky and smooth, so fucking inviting. I saw him naked earlier, and I was fine then, but here, in the confined space of the car where I can smell him in the air and sense his nervousness through the pores of my skin, it’s impossible to ignore it. This urge in me to reach out and caress him, to drag my fingers across his stomach, his ribs, his chest, to feel the tiny shivers I am confident my touch would elicit.
“You…” I clear my throat, my head spinning as I berate myself for the way my voice came out all scratchy. Fuck. I really need to get myself under control before it slips completely out of my hands. “You should try to get some sleep.”
As if on cue, Tommy yawns. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea. Wake me up when we are there or, you know, if we need to run or something.”
He gets comfortable after he buckles his seatbelt, leaning against the door and closing his eyes. His long lashes fan out across his cheeks, and he looks even morelike a doll, beautiful in an ethereal kind of way and peaceful, as if the world won’t crash down on us if we took just one tiny wrong step.
4
