Chapter 14 #2
“It doesn’t hurt?” he asks, nudging my chin up so he can get better access to the cut.
“Only a little.” I lay my hands flat on my knees, because where else am I supposed to put them?
“Stop wiggling your feet.” He smiles as he dabs the gauze, cleaning off the blood that’s already dried on my skin.
I still. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was.”
“You wiggle when you’re not sure what to do.” His eyes meet mine. “All you have to do right now is sit still so I can get this cleaned up.”
I blow out a breath and turn to look through the doorway. “Marion’s on your bed; I hope that’s okay.”
“She’s fine.” He presses another piece of gauze in place.
I jump because that one stings.
“Sorry, it hurt.” I slowly come back to where he can reach me, and he goes back to work.
“You could use a stitch.”
“No.” I jerk away, protectively covering the wound with my hand, knocking the gauze from his hand. “No stitches.”
He grabs hold of my wrist, peeling my hand away and inspecting my injury closer. The scent of his aftershave envelopes us. It’s just like him, spice and heat.
“A stitch or two is probably best, but I’ll use a butterfly bandage if you really want.”
“It’s not that deep.” I argue.
“Do you have to argue with everything I say?” He presses down on my neck, harder than before, to stop the bleeding.
“Not everything. Only when you’re wrong,” I mutter.
He presses a clean gauze to my neck. “Fine, I’ll use a butterfly bandage. But it’s going to leave a scar.”
“Do I look like someone who cares that much about looks?”
Heat flashes in his eyes. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” I turn away, giving him better access to my neck while I get my eyes away from him. Where it’s safe. I need to look anywhere but his handsome face.
After a few moments, he peels the gauze back, curses and presses it back down.
“I’m a bleeder, I guess.” I force a small smile. “Thank you, by the way. For coming over tonight like you did.”
He tilts my head back more, getting a better look at the cut.
“Your brothers cause you a lot of trouble, don’t they?” He removes the gauze, only to replace it with another. I guess it’s bleeding more than I gave it credit.
“No, I mean, sometimes they get too loud, and they need help a lot, but it’s okay. That’s what I’m for.”
“Because you’re the big sister?”
“Oh, I’m not older. They are, by two years.” I hiss when he touches the edges of the cut.
“And how often do your older brothers help you out?” He questions, picking up the bandages from the counter.
“I don’t need their help. I mean, it’s not their job, you know.”
“No. I don’t know.” Using the tip of his middle finger, he pushes my head to the side so the skin on my neck is tight when he applies the butterfly bandage. “You’re the younger sister. They should be taking care of you, not the other way around.”
“They had it a lot harder than me. I don’t mind helping them.”
“How did they have it harder than you?” With my head still tilted he leans closer into me, inspecting. “You have a piece of concrete in the wound. That’s probably why it’s still bleeding so much.”
“A piece of concrete? It’s a small cut.” I start to twist around so I can look in the mirror, but he grabs hold of my neck, holding me steady.
“It’s small, but it can’t stay. Hold still, I’m going to get it out.”
I break out in a cold sweat as soon as I see the pair of tweezers. “That’s okay. It’s fine.”
His hold loosens enough for me to leap off the counter.
“What’s the matter?” He reaches for me, snagging me by my elbow before I can get to the door. “Maxine, what’s wrong?”
“You’re not digging into my neck with that thing.” I point to the tweezers.
“It’s not in there deep, I can get it without hurting you. But it has to come out, Max.” He gentles his voice, but it’s a ruse, I’m sure to get me to comply.
“I’ll do it.” I reach for the tweezers, but he pulls them away.
“You won’t be able to see well enough.” He yanks me to him, my body flush with his. “Either get on the counter so I can do this, or I’ll pin you down and do it. Either way, it’s coming out.”
I shove at his chest. “Do you have to be such an ape all the time?”
“Apparently, with you, I do.” He wraps one arm around my waist and hauls me off the floor and plops me right back on the countertop again.
“I can do it if you’ll hold a mirror for me.” I try again, knowing full well he’ll do it whether I want him to or not.
“No.” He grabs hold of my chin and jerks my head to the side. “Stay like this, completely still and it will be done in a minute.”
I swallow and clench my fists until my fingernails dig into my palms.
He must notice, because he lays one hand on my knee. “Tell me about your brothers. You said they had a harder time than you, how so?”
“You want to talk about my brothers? Now?”
“Now’s a good time as any. Tell me.” He squeezes my knee then moves his hand back to my neck.
I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting for the pain to start.
“Go on, Max. Tell me,” he says softly.
“They were put into the system earlier than me. Since they were seven. Their father was never in the picture, and their mother was a drug addict.” I freeze when the tip of the tweezers touches me.
When there’s no pain, I continue.
“By the time I met them, they’d been in half a dozen foster homes. A few of them worse than it had been living with their mother.” I shudder, remembering the horror stories Joey and Keith relayed to me the first few weeks we were together.
“Things were bad for them in a few places.” I catch his stare. “Real bad.”
He pauses. “They were abused?”
I nod. “Yeah. They protected each other best they could, but there’s not much a little boy can do against a grown man. I think it was a relief for them to be placed in a home without a man.”
“I didn’t realize they weren’t your biological brothers.” He says as he continues to work.
“I was thirteen when we were placed in the same house.” I wince when he pushes harder into the wound. “Ow.”
“Almost done. Did they get into a lot of trouble there? Where you met them?”
He’s using this line of questioning to distract me as much as getting information on my brothers. I know it, but I can’t find any fault in it. Because it’s helping.
“They didn’t trust Mrs. Ingles. So they got into trouble a lot. But I helped keep them together, and with me.”
He pulls back. “Mrs. Ingles?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes. Not to be confused with the sweet woman on the hit television show Little House on the Prairie. She left us alone for the most part, so long as we didn’t cause her any trouble and she kept getting her monthly checks.
She had two biological kids, so she was busy with them.
If we stayed out of their way, she stayed out of ours. ”
“She was a single mom, and she took on three more kids?”
I nod. “Yeah. Looking back, I think she took in fosters as a way to make more money.” I touch his arm. “I don’t mean to make it sound like it was bad. It wasn’t. She never hurt us or abused us. We always had enough to eat and clean clothes.”
His eyebrow peeks. “Just because she didn’t hurt you doesn’t mean you weren’t harmed. Neglect is abuse, too, Maxine.”
My cheeks heat at the defensiveness in his tone. Like he’d like to hunt down Mrs. Ingles and have a chat with her.
“Well. Compared to some stories I’ve heard, we had it okay. The boys got in trouble at school a lot, though, so I helped keep them out of her hair.”
“How’d you help?” My leans back and looks me in the eye. “What did you do to keep them out trouble?”
“Oh, nothing bad. I covered for them when they missed curfew a few times.”
His eyes narrow. It’s like the man is a human lie detector. “What else?”
“Took the blame when they stole cash out of her purse. Since I didn’t really get into trouble, she was quick to forgive me, had me do extra chores to make up for the money.”
He sighs. “What else?”
“They’d never had someone be on their side. I was their sister. I needed to help them.” I lightly touch my neck. “Did you get it?”
He drops the tweezers onto the counter and grabs a tube from the medical kit. Silently, he smears an ointment on his fingertip, then applies it to the wound.
The slight burn it causes makes me tense.
“It’s just antibiotic ointment.”
“Okay.” I relax while he finishes and puts the bandage on.
“Next time, you tell me if you’ve been injured.” He pinches my chin between his thumb and fingers, dragging me to look at him. “Understand?”
His brow wrinkles, and I’m not sure if it’s with concern or annoyance. Though he really shouldn’t be annoyed at me, it wasn’t me doing the shooting. I had been peacefully sleeping in my bed, and he woke me up.
“Yeah. If I’m ever hurt while being shot at again, I’ll be sure to tell you.”
“You’re so fucking mouthy.”
“I am.” I agree, my gaze settling on his mouth. “And you’re bossy, arrogant, and annoying. I mean if we’re going to list—”
“Shut up, Maxine.” He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and his mouth crashes down over mine.