face. “No. Then I might be tempted to use it again.”
“I should change my bandages and… uh…” I looked down at his button-up. “My clothes.”
I noticed his gaze linger on my legs before he spoke up. “I’ll help you with those.”
For a minute I thought he was talking about my pants, and the memory of the last time he “helped” me with them crept up on me. Heat suffused my system as my body recalled what his touch felt like and how his fingertips lingered on my skin.
He cleared his throat and my attention jerked back to the present, and I realized he wasn’t talking about my pants. He was talking about the bandages.
It was official.
I was turning into a pervert.
I retrieved my sack of belongings from the living room and pulled out a few of the medical supplies the nurse at the hospital gave me and spread them out on the kitchen island. Then I sat down on a stool and began unwrapping one of my wrists.
“Here, let me.” His voice was gentle as he ushered my hands away and brought my wrist closer to him. He worked quietly, completely unwrapping the wound and then staring down at it with a somber expression. “How’s the pain?”
“Manageable,” I said, offering him a smile.
“I should have gotten there sooner,” he said to himself.
Was that blame I heard in his tone? I brought my free hand up and covered his arm. “Holt, I’m alive because of you.”
“But you still got hurt.”
“It would have been a lot worse,” I murmured, thinking back to that night. “I thought you were just a hallucination,” I confided and he looked up, listening to my words. “I’d been trying desperately to get to my feet, to run toward the back of my house, but my ankles were crossed, it made it hard to stand. When I did manage, I fell over.”
He didn’t say anything, but he did flip his arm over and slid it down so his fingers could grasp mine.
“I’ve never been so afraid in my entire life. The heat, it’s so intense, you know?” He nodded and I went on. “It was getting really hard to breathe, and I could feel my consciousness slipping away. And then there you were. Stepping through the flames like some kind of superhero.”
“Maybe I should get a cape,” he quipped.
I laughed lightly. “Maybe. We were lucky the fire hadn’t spread to the back door.”
“You know I didn’t actually walk through the flames. We aren’t supposed to do that.”
I tilted my head to the side. “It sure looked that way from where I was sitting.”
He nodded. “The flames were close. Closer than we would have liked. We were actually told to fall back, to go around the back of the house. But I knew if I left, if I did what they said, you would have died.”
The enormity of what he did overwhelmed me. He continued forward even after he was told he shouldn’t. He literally risked his own life for mine. I wasn’t going to bother telling him it was a reckless choice, that he shouldn’t have done it. Because I was glad he did. And I certainly wasn’t going to make less of what he did by telling him he was wrong.
“Did you get in trouble?”
His smile was lightning fast. “Nah. The chief loves me.”
I bet he did. I couldn’t imagine anyone not loving him.
He went back to working on my wrist, applying the creams I was given and rewrapping the wound like he was handling a newborn puppy or something equally as precious.
It hurt, but the pain was overshadowed by his nearness, by the sound of his even breathing, and by the looks of concern those incredible blue eyes bestowed upon me.
“Breathe,” he reminded me, pausing in his ministrations.
I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath. I took a breath and he went back to work. He probably thought I was holding my breath because of the pain. It wasn’t the pain. It was him. He was unlike any man I had ever known. It took a truly strong man
“I should change my bandages and… uh…” I looked down at his button-up. “My clothes.”
I noticed his gaze linger on my legs before he spoke up. “I’ll help you with those.”
For a minute I thought he was talking about my pants, and the memory of the last time he “helped” me with them crept up on me. Heat suffused my system as my body recalled what his touch felt like and how his fingertips lingered on my skin.
He cleared his throat and my attention jerked back to the present, and I realized he wasn’t talking about my pants. He was talking about the bandages.
It was official.
I was turning into a pervert.
I retrieved my sack of belongings from the living room and pulled out a few of the medical supplies the nurse at the hospital gave me and spread them out on the kitchen island. Then I sat down on a stool and began unwrapping one of my wrists.
“Here, let me.” His voice was gentle as he ushered my hands away and brought my wrist closer to him. He worked quietly, completely unwrapping the wound and then staring down at it with a somber expression. “How’s the pain?”
“Manageable,” I said, offering him a smile.
“I should have gotten there sooner,” he said to himself.
Was that blame I heard in his tone? I brought my free hand up and covered his arm. “Holt, I’m alive because of you.”
“But you still got hurt.”
“It would have been a lot worse,” I murmured, thinking back to that night. “I thought you were just a hallucination,” I confided and he looked up, listening to my words. “I’d been trying desperately to get to my feet, to run toward the back of my house, but my ankles were crossed, it made it hard to stand. When I did manage, I fell over.”
He didn’t say anything, but he did flip his arm over and slid it down so his fingers could grasp mine.
“I’ve never been so afraid in my entire life. The heat, it’s so intense, you know?” He nodded and I went on. “It was getting really hard to breathe, and I could feel my consciousness slipping away. And then there you were. Stepping through the flames like some kind of superhero.”
“Maybe I should get a cape,” he quipped.
I laughed lightly. “Maybe. We were lucky the fire hadn’t spread to the back door.”
“You know I didn’t actually walk through the flames. We aren’t supposed to do that.”
I tilted my head to the side. “It sure looked that way from where I was sitting.”
He nodded. “The flames were close. Closer than we would have liked. We were actually told to fall back, to go around the back of the house. But I knew if I left, if I did what they said, you would have died.”
The enormity of what he did overwhelmed me. He continued forward even after he was told he shouldn’t. He literally risked his own life for mine. I wasn’t going to bother telling him it was a reckless choice, that he shouldn’t have done it. Because I was glad he did. And I certainly wasn’t going to make less of what he did by telling him he was wrong.
“Did you get in trouble?”
His smile was lightning fast. “Nah. The chief loves me.”
I bet he did. I couldn’t imagine anyone not loving him.
He went back to working on my wrist, applying the creams I was given and rewrapping the wound like he was handling a newborn puppy or something equally as precious.
It hurt, but the pain was overshadowed by his nearness, by the sound of his even breathing, and by the looks of concern those incredible blue eyes bestowed upon me.
“Breathe,” he reminded me, pausing in his ministrations.
I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath. I took a breath and he went back to work. He probably thought I was holding my breath because of the pain. It wasn’t the pain. It was him. He was unlike any man I had ever known. It took a truly strong man
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