Chapter Four #3
“You don’t need to be sorry. Come here.” He helps me up, lifting me beneath my elbow and walking me over to the sink. “Let me see.” He gently turns my hand over but blood covers it, obscuring the cut.
“I can’t believe I was so clumsy,” I mutter.
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about the glass. But we do have to see how deep the cut is.” He turns on the faucet, sticking his finger underneath the running water to make certain it is cool. “Okay, this may hurt but let’s see what we’re dealing with. Ready?”
I draw a deep breath and nod, letting him control things as we move my hand beneath the spray. It is easy to see that the cut looks deep, and for all I know, there are smaller shards of glass in the open wound.
“I think this is going to need stitches,” he says, reading my mind.
As soon as I take my palm away from the water, blood begins to pool again.
“Let’s head over to the emergency walk-in clinic,” Austin says. “I think it’ll be faster than dealing with the emergency room at the hospital.”
I nod.
He grabs a clean hand towel from the drawer and presses it against my hand. “Hold that there. I just need to put on shoes and grab my keys.”
“You don’t need to—”
He places a hand beneath my chin and forces me to look at him. “Do not say I don’t need to take you.”
“Okay, but first call the Slaters and ask Tina if she can bring Bailey home with Robin for a playdate,” I say of the next-door neighbor, who has a daughter one year younger than Bailey.
The girls often play together, and we do each other favors when needed.
“I have to pick her up in an hour, and we won’t make it in time.
If Tina can’t do it, I really can go alone. ” Not that I want to.
Austin’s kind, caring demeanor calms my nerves. I hate to admit it, but I’m glad he wants to come with me. Taking an Uber by myself for stitches isn’t something I’d have looked forward to. I don’t do well with hospitals, needles, or blood.
He stares at me for so long I grow uncomfortable.
“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
He blinks, still gaping at me. “You thought of Bailey first,” he says, looking at me with what looks like awed admiration.
“Of course I did.”
“Right.” He shakes his head, as if clearing his thoughts. “It’s just… after the day I had, you took me by surprise.”
I wonder what he means, but I don’t have time to ask. “Austin? I need a fresh towel.” Blood had soaked through the one I am using.
Hours and five stitches later, we return home, and I am forced to admit I needed Austin by my side. I was surrounded by unpleasant memories in the sterile, bland-colored hospital rooms to begin with. And I really don’t do well with pain.
He held my good hand, and when the doctor injected around the cut to numb my skin, I tucked my head against his strong chest when the burning sensation became too much.
I appreciate his strength and caring. He could have sent me in alone, not jumped up the minute I hesitated after they called my name.
He stopped to pick up dinner on the way home so I wouldn’t have to worry about putting something together with one hand, which I would definitely have attempted to do, he cleaned up the broken glass mess in the kitchen, and he gave Bailey her bath.
Although he instructed me to rest for the remainder of the night, I still want to help where I can. I change into comfortable sweats and a tee shirt, and although the numbness has worn off, I am managing the throbbing sensation without too much trouble.
I walk upstairs to check and see if father or daughter needs anything before I turn in for the night. Voices sound from Bailey’s room, and I pause outside the doorway.
“Daddy, you don’t sound like a unicorn!” Bailey says, giggling.
“No? What do unicorns sound like?” Austin asks.
“Girls! Unicorns are girls.”
The next sound is uncontrollable six-year-old giggling, obviously from being tickled.
Just how does he think Bailey will relax enough to fall asleep if he works her up right before bedtime?
Tickles are tantamount to giving the little girl a sugar rush, I think.
I am about to walk into the room and tell him so when the voice of reason in my head stops me.
It’s not your place.
I am not Bailey’s mother, and Austin gave me the night off. Who am I to walk in and tell him how to handle his own child? Sure, I might mention it in passing when we talk tomorrow, but for tonight, I’ll leave him and his daughter alone.
I am about to turn and leave the doorway when Austin lifts his head, catching sight of me, his dark gaze settling on me, a warm smile on his face. My stomach tumbles over at the sight.
“Wait for me downstairs?” he asks me in a sexy, gruff voice. “I want to talk to you.”
I swallow hard and nod.
“Mia!” Bailey pops up from her prone position in bed.
I wave at her. “Night, Munchkin.”
“Night, Mia,” Bailey says, yawning big afterwards.
Austin encourages Bailey to lie back down.
Maybe she’ll fall asleep easily after all, I think. I watch Austin pull the covers up and over Bailey’s little shoulders before leaning down to kiss her good night.