“No, no,” I refuse, “You’re fine. You can go take a seat if you like.”
My voice is rushing from me, words pulling together, and I can feel my heart pounding so damn hard inside my chest I wonder if he can hear it. It batters against my rib cage and thumps in my throat.
Taking the boiling pot to the sink, I get the colander in place and pour, but my palms are damp with my nerves, and my hands shake so tipping the water is sloppy. Scalding water splashes out and lands against the back of my hand; the burn is immediate.
“Shit!” I cry out, dropping the entire pot of vegetables into the sink with a crash.
I don’t hear Silas move, don’t see it either. One minute he’s on the other side of the room, the next he’s beside me, his fingers curled around my wrist as he switches on the cold water and places my hand beneath it.
The back of my hand is bright red, already blistering, and the cold water is only adding to the pain.
“No, you need to keep it under,” Silas mutters, his hand holding firm to keep my hand beneath the water when I try to pull away from it. “Are you okay?”
I tilt my chin toward him, “No.”
He flicks his gold eyes to me, so much understanding there even though I haven’t said a single other word.
“Let me help.” He rasps.
“You don’t know me,” I swallow, looking away and to his fingers circled around my wrist. It’s soft and yet firm enough to keep me from moving, the calluses scratching on my skin.
“I don’t need to know you, Juni,” his voice is low.
“Why?”
“I’ve known men like Cal before; I know what they’re capable of. No one should be subjected to that type of person.”
“Then why are you still here?” I ask, “You can leave any time you want.”
“Not sure I could even if I wanted to,” he sighs. “How does that feel?”
The burn is still stinging, my entire hand throbbing with it, but I lie and say, “It’s fine now. I have some burn cream.”
Neither of us moves though, his proximity leaving my body flushed and my heart racing. He smells like leather and citrus, intoxicating enough that I want to bury my face into his neck and inhale, which is absolutely insane.
“What is going on here!?” Cal’s voice breaks us apart, and my wide eyes snap to him standing in the doorway, his face a mask of fury, his body practically vibrating.
“I—I,” I stammer, guilt and fear and anxiety pushing a lump into my throat.
“She spilled some hot water on her hand,” Silas says cooly, taking my hand like my husband isn’t still standing there. “Burned herself pretty badly. You should go grab the first-aid kit.”
His cold eyes narrow and a muscle twitches in his jaw, “Come here, Juni.”
Silas releases me when I pull my hand from his and cross the room to Cal, steps weighed down with lead. He’s far less gentle when he snatches up my wrist and takes a look at the blisters on my hand, the skin red raw and swelling.
He tuts impatiently, “This will leave a scar.”
Imperfection. Flaw.
“Go sort that,” he orders.
“Yes, Cal.”
The air in the kitchen switches; I feel it in my very bones. Down deep a stirring is starting. I move by Cal toward the bathroom on this floor where I keep my first-aid kit, but before I round the corner, I look back at Silas. His eyes are burning, the gold there swirling and darkening. He isn’t looking at me though; he’s looking at Cal and he looks like he wants to kill him.
My gut twists.
I don’t deserve that kind of response from him.
