Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
I carefully pulled the knife from her hand, setting it on the nightstand.
“Josie sent me,” I told her. “We were both worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, voice like gravel.
“You’re not fine,” I said.
She was going to be difficult about this. It was her nature. And I had to roll with that.
“Hold on. I got you a drink,” I told her. “The cold might help that throat,” I added, turning and going into the hall to grab the soda, but not before I shot a text to a worried Josie.
She was beat up on this job.
- Is she okay?
She’s okay, but it’s rough. I’ll update you later.
I made my way back to the bedroom to find her sitting up against the headboard, a hand to her throat, a far-away, tortured look in her eyes.
“If this goes down like glass, I can make you something warm instead,” I told her, handing her the Big Gulp as I kicked out of my shoes, and made my way around the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked, wincing again with the effort to speak.
“Getting in bed with you,” I told her, doing just that as she took a sip of her drink, paused, then took another.
“Why?”
“Because you need someone, but you’re such a fucking stubborn ass that you won’t admit that. So I am just going to sit here and be there for you until are ready to talk. Does that TV work?” I asked, pointing across the room to her black dresser with its black, oversized frame.
Deciding not to fight me, because whether she liked it or not, she did need someone.
So she reached over for the remote. The twisting had her taking a sharp intake of breath.
There were other injuries.
I wanted to see them all, to tell her if she needed to go see someone. Maybe Seeley’s girl, Ama, if she wouldn’t go to a hospital. But I needed to go slow with her.
“Thanks,” I said, tone calm, turning on the TV and flicking through the channels, settling on a sitcom that was light and easy, hoping it would break up the heavy mood in the room.
“I’m fine,” she insisted again, and I was wondering if she was trying to convince me or herself.
“Of course you are,” I agreed, nodding.
She might have been beat down and bruised, but this was Rynn. She was okay. Or she would be after she healed up.
“I had a job,” she told me what felt like an eternity later. “It… didn’t go how I planned. And I planned a lot,” she said, then was silent for a minute, sipping the drink.
I had been choked out once in my life. And I distinctly remembered the next day, how swallowing my spit was torture, let alone speaking.
“Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you plan, or how good you are. Shit just goes sideways.”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding, eyes far off for a moment, then shaking her head like she was trying to break the thoughts free.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked.
“Okay.”
“Did you treat those cuts?” I asked, waving toward her legs.
“Yes.”
“Can I treat them again?” I asked. “They’re looking a little puffy.”
“I can—“ she started.
“Hey, I asked if I could,” I repeated.
“Okay,” she relented.
“In the primary bathroom or the hall one?” I asked, pointing each way.
“This one.”
“Alright.”
With that, I climbed off the bed, making my way into the bathroom.
More of the same dark colors.
Even the tile in the shower stall and the soaking tub itself.
Opening the storage cabinet, I found a plastic container jammed full of first aid supplies, making me wonder yet again what the fuck this woman did for a living that had her so stocked up on bandages, antiseptic, little plastic tiles of sealed saline, butterfly sutures, ointments and salves, and even a fucking kit to do her own stitches.
I gathered what I needed, washed my hands, and made my way back to the bed, sitting at her feet, spreading towels, and getting to work cleaning the wounds with the saline, then letting them dry before slathering on some triple antibiotic, then figuring out how to put bandage them without the adhesive touching the other cuts.
I decided on gauze, then wrapping the legs with some of the cohesive bandage wrap to wrap up her entire legs and arms.
I felt Rynn’s gaze on me the whole time, but said nothing, just let her think through whatever was going on in her head.
Finished, I put everything on the nightstand, knowing this would need to be repeated again in the morning.
“How about some ice for your face?” I asked, looking up at her. It took actual work to keep my jaw slack and my eyes from slitting when I looked up at her pretty face all battered like that.
There would be a time and a place for my anger. This wasn’t it.