I nodded and said, “Okay... Lane...” I took a deep breath and thought about the best way to approach this without having to drag it into a prolonged conversation. I really would like to catch some sleep before the morning. “She tricked me. Mrs. Flores. She used my naïvety against me and she did it well. I just assumed she was some overly curious old lady that wanted to talk about a young girl’s life at the park.” I used some of the hand sanitizer he had on the dresser and began to take a good look at his shoulder. “I was an idiot.”
He hung his head down low for a few long minutes, but I knew he was listening intently. I couldn’t see his facial expression, or tell what he was thinking, so I took the opportunity to get the bandage change out of the way. I let my eyes roam for a moment and noticed the tattoo on his neck again. It simply said, Kate. It was written in a feminine handwriting that should have looked strange on his masculine body, but it didn’t. It was perfect.
“You shouldn’t have been carrying Kate around. You’ve already pulled a stitch out.” The cut on his shoulder looked angry and red, but it wasn’t any longer than about two inches. It was slender like... a knife. Had he been stabbed?
“If holding her causes all of them to pull out, I won’t care. Won’t stop me,” he whispered sullenly down into his chest.
“I didn’t think it would. I’m pretty sure I can hold it together with two pieces of tape anyway.”
He shrugged his shoulders, indicating he could really care less.
“Is this a stab wound?” I asked curiously, because I couldn’t ever seem to keep anything in for too long.
“Yep.”
“Should I be worried that you get yourself into situations that cause you to get stabbed?” I asked, trying to get him to elaborate.
“Worried about me or worried about Kate?”
“Just worried.” I didn’t care to clarify.
“It won’t happen again. I used to enter these underground fighting matches a couple times a year because I knew that Flores would be there. He was a hardcore gambler, and it was the only way I could figure out how to get close to him. So I learned to fight and showed up. This last one got a little messy.”
“Did he do it?” I whispered.
“Might as well have. He told me Kate was dead that night.” The break in his voice caused me to tremble. “That was worse than anything a knife could do.”
“Oh, Lane…”
I couldn’t imagine hearing something like that. My heart hurt for him and the man he must have been after that kind of news. His emotions had been tossed about just as much as ours had been lately. I needed to give him a little slack, just as he should have been giving some to me.
After wiping down the injured area with antiseptic and some of the clear ointment, I covered it back up with clean pieces of gauze. I couldn’t help but to let my fingers linger for a few seconds longer than necessary on his warm skin. I told myself that I was just making sure the tape was properly adhered, but if I was being honest, I just wanted to touch him.
I had been so starved for touch from anyone older than a child for so long that his beautiful, honed body seemed to be singing to the blood that rushed through my veins. The first time I met Lane for my job interview, I’d been attracted to him. It would have been impossible not to be. Even before he was built like a brick house, he was gorgeous. His sandy blonde hair looked striking against his lightly tanned skin. His hazel eyes sometimes hinted at being green, which only caused me to want to look a beat too long.
Of course, I never acted on those lustful feelings. Ash had been my friend, and I was eternally grateful to her for allowing me to work for her family. I was in a tough bind being a young, single mom with a baby. Yes, Lane was nice to look at, but that was all he had ever been to me. Eye-candy. Delicious, mouth-watering eye-candy.
The object of my frustrating attraction stood up in front of me, causing the proximity of our bodies to be too close. He ushered me into the chair he had just vacated and I looked up at him, confused. He didn’t say anything but instead just walked away, and I soon heard the water running in the bathroom. He returned a moment later, wiping his hands off on a towel and then tossing it onto the bed.
“Your turn.” He tapped the side of his temple, indicating my injury.
I immediately sprang up. “No, no,” I rushed to say. “I can take care of it on my own.” The last thing I wanted was him anywhere near my face.
“It’s only fair,” he replied while rubbing the sanitizer gel on his hands. He already had his fingers gently peeling back the tape when he said, “Besides, you’re bleeding through…you need it changed.”
My eyes welled up at the idea of him seeing what was underneath all that dirty tape and gauze. Thankfully, it looked a lot better than it had a week ago, but it still wasn’t pretty. His harsh string of curse words under his breath let me know he finally had it uncovered. I shot up and tried to walk away.
“Please, I can do it,” I implored with tears in my eyes.
“And I can help. It’s the least I can do after being an asshole to you.” He pushed me back down gently and took a clean swab out of the sterile pack before wiping the area clean. “Why are you crying?” he asked softly. His voice had changed from demanding to calm in a matter of seconds.
“Because it’s hideous.”
“That’s usually how cuts go. I don't think they’re supposed to look pretty.” I stayed silent in my seat because he had only confirmed my insecurity. He took a deep breath and continued, “The cut is unsightly, not you. Don’t worry, you’re still as beautiful as ever.”
Before my jaw could drop at his words, he quickly rushed on to say, “I can take care of this. Besides, I’m not squeamish and this has to hurt like a bitch. Am I allowed to ask what happened, or is that rude?” he inquired.
“You can ask, but it’s a long story and I really don’t want to talk about it yet.”
“Fair enough,” he responded easily.
I had stitches stretching from above my eyebrow, past my temple, and down to my ear. Where his laceration was cleaned up nice and neat with his stitches, mine still looked jagged and disgusting. I just knew I would have a hell of a scar.
“I wasn’t fair to you,” he whispered. I almost smarted off at his words because that was a huge understatement, but then decided to just let him continue. “It was always easier for me to pawn it off on you. I didn’t always think it was your fault. I had a one-track mind to find Flores, but every once in a while I’d think about that tape of you and his wife and I’d see red. When I saw Kate again and then you, I just... I had no idea how to process that. I really am sorry, I never knew how to anticipate this moment.”
“I think it’s new for everyone,” I offered.
“I’m also… jealous,” he whispered.
“Jealous?” I laughed cynically.
“You’ve had all these years with her. It’s not your fault regardless, I had no room to be an asshole.”
I was alarmed when Lane set down yet another soaked piece of gauze in front of me. Should I have been bleeding that much? He gently soothed some of the antibiotic ointment across the side of my face with the lightest of strokes.
“This doesn’t look good, Raegan. Shouldn’t you be in the hospital or something?” he whispered.
“I’ve been in the hospital for the past two weeks. That’s where Charlie picked me up. They said I should be fine, as long as I continue taking that arsenal of drugs in there.”
He started to say something but stopped himself as he stared down into my eyes. For a moment I felt something between us. I sensed so many unspoken words and even a tingling feeling that I was unfamiliar with. He broke the spell first with a slight shake of his head, and then reached out to grab more gauze. I closed my eyes for the remainder of his doctoring, feeling confused.