I indicate the wound on the side of my head where Aiden split my forehead open. “I need stitching up.”
She crosses her arms. “And you just happened to end up in my section?”
I shrug. “Seems like the universe is throwing us together.”
She snorts, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
There’s a clatter behind us, and she jumps as a cart is wheeled past. Her hand flies to her chest, and her eyes widen in fear. Something’s got her jumpy.
“Are you all right?”
She shakes it off and pulls open a metal tray with first-aid paraphernalia on it. “The question is are you all right?”
She’s deflected my question, and I still don’t know what’s made her jumpy, but all normal thought flees my mind as she brushes my temple with her fingertips.
“Let me guess, you got into a fight?” Her touch is gentle as she inspects the gash.
“It’s not as rough as you think.”
She snorts. “It’s rough enough to land a grown man in the hospital.”
I bite my tongue because she’s not wrong. It’s not a big wound, and I could stitch it up myself, but where would be the fun in that?
“I’m going to put antiseptic on it, then I’ll stitch you up.”
“Yes doctor.”
“I’m a nurse not a doctor.”
She gets a bottle out of the cupboard and puts some ointment on a cotton swab.
“This may hurt.” She dabs it across the wound, and I don’t flinch at the sting. I’ve experienced much worse in the military and in training.
“How long have you been in Hope?” I ask.
She sets the ointment down and prepares the needle. “You ask a lot of questions.”
I’d like to ask more, like why the hell her hand is trembling, and why she startles every time there’s a noise outside our room.
Her fingers are shaking so much that she can barely thread the needle. I want to find out what’s bothering her and make it better.
“Let me do it.”
I take the needle and thread from her.
“Are you going to be okay to stitch me up, or am I going to end up with my eyelids stitched together?”
She almost laughs but stops herself. “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”
I hand the threaded needle back to her, and as I do, I take her hands in mine. I want to press her hands to my heart and steady her, but I settle for stroking my thumb over her palm.
“Breathe with me.”
She looks into my eyes, and I take a deep breath in. She follows, and after a slow count of four, I let it out slowly. We do it a few times until I feel her trembling stop.
“Thank you. I’m good now.”
She may be steady, but my heart is galloping in my chest. I want to pull her close, to let her know it will all be okay, only I don’t know what it is that’s troubling her.
