Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
Kieran
“What’s wrong with your head?” I asked, eyeing the large bandage that went from his temple all the way to the middle of his forehead.
“I have stitches.”
“What about your hand?” I asked, gaze sliding to the next bandage.
“It’s cut,” he said, avoiding my gaze by wiggling around against the pillow.
That answer wasn’t good enough, so I continued to stare until he got the hint.
“They glued it shut,” he elaborated.
“Where else are you hurt?”
“Why are you here?” he questioned, his eyes finally lifting to me.
It was a good question. I also wondered why I was here. After all, I’d told him I wasn’t coming. The next thing I knew, I was stepping off the fourth-floor elevator and nearly mowed over by a hurricane in a hospital gown.
I knew it was him the second he looked up. Those eyes were unforgettable, and the innocence he’d emitted in the photo was even more palpable in person.
His leg bounced nervously against the mattress, making the bed vibrate while he fidgeted with the IV line that had clearly once been in his arm.
I was top-notch at assessing a situation. I prided myself on reading a room and the people in it in record time. For me, it was often a matter of life or death. So even when it wasn’t—like now—I still did it, the instinct too natural to ever turn off.
But this little hazard was almost too easy. Once again, I wondered if he was manipulating me. Hell, everyone.
There’s no way someone is this na?ve and harmless.
The longer I went without responding to his question, the more he abused the IV line, folding the tubing in half and twisting it between his fingers.
Reaching down, I pulled it away, and the second it unfolded, liquid dripped out of the end. “You left me on read,” I told him.
“You said you wouldn’t come.”
Yet here I sit.
A woman dressed in white scrubs bustled into the room and began tsking at the sight of the IV and his arm. After setting her supplies on the bed and fisting her hands on her hips, she shook her head. “Just look at what you’ve done.”
“I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled, contrite.
“Are you going to yank it out if I put it back?” she asked. “The doctor said you’re dehydrated.”
“I’ll drink some water when I get home.” He bargained, trying to use those eyes to get his way.
Like hell.
“Put it back in,” I ordered. “He can finish this bag and then another before we leave.”
“What?” His voice was plaintive, almost whiny. But those two-toned eyes were accusing. “I don’t want that.”
“If you’re dehydrated, it’s what you need.”
“This is not why I texted you,” he mumbled.
“Well, you did, and I’m here,” I said, turning to the nurse who was watching us curiously. “I’ll make sure it stays in his arm this time.”
“And you are…?” she asked.
“His boyfriend.” The title rolled right off my tongue without a hitch. Did I mention I was also top-notch at lying?
The hazard in the bed made a choked sound, and I pinned him with a stare and arched an eyebrow. Go ahead and deny it. Deny me.
His face flushed, and his leg began bouncing on the mattress once more.
“Why does he have a rash on his face?” I asked.
His hands flew up to his cheeks, pads of his fingers feeling around like he was trying to see if I was lying.
“From the airbag,” the nurse replied. “It’ll go away in a few days.”
I frowned, the idea of him being in a car accident unpleasant. “What other injuries does he have?” I asked as the nurse cleaned up the inside of his elbow where the first IV had been.
“A concussion. Some bumps and bruises,” she replied, applying a bandage.
The boy lying between us slipped his fingers between his lips to chew his nails. Nail-biting was a horrible habit, and I grabbed his hand, pulling it away from his teeth.
He gave me a hard look and tugged it back.
I caught it again, this time wrapping my larger hand around his to hold it hostage. His leg started bouncing twice as fast.
“I think I’ll put the new line in the other arm. This one’s been through enough,” she said, frowning at the dried blood. “Think you can wash up in the bathroom? It’ll be faster than me using wipes.”
He moved to the edge of the bed, his toes only making it halfway to the floor. He slid closer to the edge, the hospital gown riding up his legs and baring his thighs as he went.
I snapped my eyes at the nurse, making sure she wasn’t looking, and lifted him the rest of the way with one arm. His blue/green eyes were wide when they looked up at me, our bodies so close our chests brushed together.
Teeth sinking into his plump lower lip, he wiggled from between me and the bed to head to the adjoining bathroom. The back of the gown fluttered open, showing me the narrow curve of his lower back and a flash of his boxer briefs. They were red with pizza slices on them.
“I’ll help you,” I said, sliding a hand to the small of his back, noting how thin he was.
He jolted when my palm brushed his bare skin, and he tried to sidestep the touch. “I don’t need help.”
My fingers curled around his side and pulled him back. “You’re unsteady on your feet.”
“I’m not,” he argued and rushed away. Three steps in, he swayed and would have fallen if I hadn’t caught him.
Wrapping my arm around him, I all but lifted him off his feet and hauled him into the bathroom where the light turned on automatically. He recoiled from the fluorescents but said nothing as I carried him to the sink.
After propping him against the tiny vanity, I moved to his back, sandwiching him between me and the sink. When he didn’t do anything, I reached around to turn on the water, making sure it was warm.
Seconds ticked by, and he did nothing but watch the water pour down the drain. I made a sound of impatience, and he lifted his right hand, showing me the bandage.
I took control, pushing his injured hand to his side and then leaning around him, caging him in with my body and arms. With a palm full of soap, I tugged his bloody forearm beneath the water and got to cleaning him up.
His wild hair brushed my chin and the underside of my jaw as I hunched in to work, and I could feel the hammering of his heart through his back against my chest. The bathroom was silent except for the light splashing of the water as I gently rinsed away the blood, looking for more wounds.
It was the stillest I’d seen him in the fifteen-ish minutes I’d known him. His body barely moved, tucked tight against mine, and his breathing was deep and even.
When his arm and hand were clean, I reached for his other hand, which made him jolt.
“Just your fingers, baby doll,” I said right beside his ear. “You had them in your mouth.”
A full-body tremble worked through him, but then he went slack, leaving me to support all of his weight. I did so easily while washing his other hand and then turning off the faucet.
Still pinning him, I grabbed a towel nearby and dried him thoroughly.
“Good, doll,” I whispered, and he swallowed back a whine. “Now back out to get the IV. And no pulling it out this time.”
“I didn’t. I fell out of bed, and it ripped out.”
“I knew you were a little hazard.”
He stiffened and pushed me back as he turned. “I am not.”
I caught him around the waist, both hands nearly meeting at the small of his back.
“And I don’t need an IV.”
My lips twitched, wanting to smile. “I think you do.”
“I need to leave.”
He’d said that before. On the app. That he was desperate to get out of there. “Why?”
His eyes shot to mine and then dropped away. “What?”
“Why do you need to leave?”
He shrugged.
Reaching between us, I grasped his chin and forced it up. His green and blue eyes were wary. “Is someone waiting for you?”
The wariness was replaced with confusion as his stare darted between mine like he was confused. “What?”
“Are you in a hurry to go because you’re meeting someone?” I spoke through gritted teeth.
“Who would I meet?” he wondered.
Fury at the idea of someone waiting for him swept through me. And then the infernal fury burning me up was taken over by cold resolve. The exact same frostiness I used when snuffing out a life. I’ll kill them.
“I can’t afford the bill!” he burst out, ripping away my murderous tendencies with his voice.
I blinked and looked down, noting his trembling fingers clutching my biceps. Gazing back up, I also noted the alarm in his rounded eyes and the slight part of his lips.
“What’s the matter?” I was gruff.
“Me? You’re the one that looked like you were about to be the next star of a Dateline episode.”
I made a sour face. “Dateline is for criminals who get caught.”
“Who are you?” he whispered.
I couldn’t help but notice the way he still clung to my arms. “Your fake boyfriend until you get discharged.”
What the hell are you doing, Kieran? This is absurd.
“Well, let’s go see if they’ll discharge me now,” he said, trying to pull away.
I yanked him back. “I didn’t say you could go.”
“I told you I can’t afford any more treatments.”
He thought I meant leave the hospital instead of my arms.
“You’re getting the IV,” I told him, tightening my grip around his waist. He was hurt and dehydrated. So fucking small. No wonder the staff hadn’t wanted him to leave.
He began shaking his head. “I can’t—”
“I’ll pay the bill.”
His mouth dropped open, shock illuminating his gemstone eyes. “W-why would you do that?”
“Consider it an apology.”
His nose wrinkled.
Fuck me, he’s adorable.
“An apology for what?”
“For being rude before.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s your personality.”
I barked a laugh. “Still, I shouldn’t have said that on the app.”
He shrugged. “It was the truth. I’m not your responsibility.”
Mine. The word rumbled inside me like a volcano, actively denying his statement.
“Is everything okay in there?” The nurse appeared in the doorway.
“Yes. He’s ready for the IV now,” I replied, pushing him forward.
He glanced over his shoulder, an argument forming in his stare.
“Go on, little hazard. Don’t argue.”
“Don’t call me that,” he hissed.
But that was exactly what he was. A hazard. To himself. To my better judgment.
But as hazardous as he was, I wasn’t ready to let him go yet.