Chapter Two #3
“That’s good. The next time you pee, you’re going to go in this.” He holds up a plastic container with a half-eaten sandwich. “So I can check for any traces of blood.”
I try to suppress a laugh and fail miserably.
He presses his lips together as the corners of his mouth turn up and his eyes shift away. “I’m sorry. That was just funny,” I try to say with a serious tone.
He lets out a hint of a laugh before continuing. “If that is clear, you can take some Advil. Sound like a deal?” He offers me his hand, and he barely extends it as we are so close, and I shake it.
“Deal.”
“I want to treat some of these cuts and scratches on your face. Do you have any others?”
“I don’t think so. Most of my skin that was covered is miraculously okay. It’s mainly just bruising. I wasn’t as lucky as you. I’m guessing it was a piece of this jagged, warped metal lying around that got your side?”
“Probably.” He offers a small shrug. He lifts his index finger in front of my face like earlier and holds the flashlight there. “Follow my finger.” I track it in all directions. “Good.” He snaps a glove over his hand. “No latex allergy?”
“Nope.”
“Good.” Then he rips open a packet and squeezes a lavish amount of first aid ointment onto his fingertip.
He smooths the hair away from my face as he inches forward, his bed of dark lashes lowering as he focuses on the scratches.
I can’t help but notice his full lips and cupid’s bow as he tilts his head in concentration.
The fire dances over his features, throwing its soft light onto the five o’clock shadow on his defined jawline as he rubs some ointment over the small cuts and scratches.
His touch is gentle, and his brow furrows as he works.
I’m close enough to notice he has a light freckle under his eye.
A strand of my hair falls onto my cheek, and he slides it back again with one finger, dragging it over my temple.
His touch is completely professional, but I’m grateful for the loud crackling of the embers hiding my increased breath and thudding heart.
His eyes flick up and meet mine. My heart stalls before it thunders.
His gaze jumps back down to the outside corner of my lip, where he dabs some more ointment, and I swear his broad chest heaves.
I dart my eyes to the side as I shut the nearness of him out of my mind and think of the direness of this situation, but my body continues to betray me.
“What hospital is Tyler in?”
“Boston Medical Center.”
“That’s where I work.”
“Get out of here.”
“It’s a great hospital. When did they admit him?”
“Two days ago.”
“What tests have they run?”
“A full body CT and one of his brain.”
“If they did all of that, you don’t need to worry about any kind of internal bleed or anything they would have missed. His hand lifts as he pulls his chin back. “There, all treated.”
“Thank you. You have some scratches on your face. May I?” I reach towards the box of gloves in his open doctor’s bag, then pull my hand back.
“Yeah, go ahead.” He nods.
I pull out a blue glove and stretch my fingers through, smelling the latex and the powdery feel of it.
“Your head stopped bleeding at least. That’s a good thing because I don’t think you could have stitched that yourself, and I certainly couldn’t have.” I huff.
His mouth twists. “Scalps bleed easily. It probably looked much worse than it was.”
“You’ve got some cuts over your eyebrow and a few along your cheek.
” I trace over his brow, and his eyes look everywhere but at me as I drag my fingers down the side of his face.
I hover over his exquisite mouth, and for a split second, I have the urge to graze my thumb over it.
Maybe he is the distraction I need. Treat the wounds on this beautiful man’s face and stop thinking about reality.
“There.”
“Thank you.” He clears his throat and leans back, fighting a grimace as he adjusts to comfort his side. “As I was saying before, we have enough food for a little over two weeks. I say we stay put until they find us. I’m hoping it won’t be more than a few days.”
“But what if no one knows we’re here?”
“They have to.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“We should try to get some sleep.”
“Agreed.”
As I slip into my sleeping bag and curl to my side on my makeshift bed with a blanket from the survival kit, all I can think about is Tyler.
All I want to do is let the thoughts of him flood me so it’s only him I see, but they are almost too painful.
I give in and think of my little boy. Anguish rips through me as I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my mouth, muffling a sob.
My body trembles as I let out the dread of never seeing him again, the tears streaming down my face, and I give in to this ugly cry.
This can’t be it; I refuse to never see my son again.
I shrink into a ball and turn away from Spencer.
The wind whistles outside as the gusts rattle the frame.
“Amanda?” Spencer says in a low tone from across the fire. “It’s going to be all right. We’re going to make it home.”