Chapter 7 #3
“Promise me.” My voice sounded higher than normal. “Promise you’ll never give me a narc.”
“What if you’re really injured? I don’t know if I can keep that promise.”
“Trey.” Gods, how could I convince him? “I swear to you that me getting a narc is worse than any pain I could ever experience.”
He frowned. “What happens?”
“I…I can’t really explain it. It’s just…bad.”
He studied me, his brow slightly furrowed. “Alright,” he finally said, “I promise.”
I let out a shaky breath, but he wasn’t finished.
“If you take a few minutes and rest.”
I glared at him. “I am fine.”
“Bones,” he said in a sharper voice, “you do realize why I can’t believe you when you say that, right?”
The door opening once again rescued me. A coughing older man came in, followed by a man limping, his face lined in pain.
Relief made me lightheaded as I went back to work.
Before I finished with the man who’d sprained his ankle, several more people came in with minor injuries.
Most were superficial wounds that didn’t require my help, and I knew people were coming to gawk at my fucked-up face and see what happened for themselves.
I didn’t like it, but it kept me busy and Trey silent.
The clinic didn’t empty for several more hours, but as the last person filed out, Trey followed and flipped the sign on the door to “Closed.”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“The clinic is closed.” Trey leaned out the door and said something I couldn’t quite make out to the person outside. When he came back in and shut the door behind him, he gave me a stern look. “You’re hurt and you need to rest.”
Panic rose in my throat. “I need to—”
“It can wait,” Trey cut in.
I didn’t know how to explain that I had to keep moving, that staying busy was the only thing holding me together.
“Who’s taking the night watch?” I asked, hoping to distract him.
“Me.”
I frowned. “You’ve been here all day.”
“I hope you’re not gettin’ tired of me,” he teased, but that lightness didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m gonna be staying here for a while. Think of it like a permanent security detail. Griz and Mac are gonna bring a mattress over.”
I froze. My eyes darted between him and the door. Would he sleep in the clinic with me?
“I’ll set up over here by the door,” Trey added, softening like he could sense my panic.
Was I relieved or terrified? I wasn’t sure. Both?
“Oh,” I managed to say.
We stared at each other for a few breaths, but the stillness felt unbearable. I needed to do something. I grabbed the old plastic bucket underneath the sink and filled it with water.
“What are you doing?” Trey asked, an edge to his voice.
“Cleaning.” Somebody had wiped up most of my blood from the floor, but it still needed a good scrubbing.
“Bones,” he said, “this is not resting.”
“I don’t need to sit on my ass,” I retorted.
I heard him approaching, and I tensed. He reached past me and turned the water off. The soft sleeve of his flannel shirt brushed my arm. “What are you gonna clean?” he asked quietly.
“The floor.”
“Let me do it.” He lifted the bucket out of the sink.
“I can do it,” I argued.
“I know you can,” he replied, grabbing the stiff bristle brush from under the sink, “but you don’t have to.”
I glared at his back as he strode away and got down on his hands and knees to scrub the floor.
Godsdamnit. I settled for rearranging the shelf of tiny bottles.
I caught Trey giving me an annoyed look, but he didn’t say anything.
He finished the floor before I completed my task.
Reaching up to grab the bottles on the tallest shelf made my shoulders and arms hurt.
My body was starting to ache, but right now I needed to keep moving.
“Let me get it.”
I jumped as he appeared behind me.
“Sorry,” he said. He grabbed the bottles off the high shelf, setting them down on the counter for me to organize. “I can put them back up. Tell me where.”
I scowled but directed him. With his help, we finished the tedious job far too quickly. I scanned the small room, trying to figure out what to tackle next. The windows needed to be cleaned, but they were so high up and I wasn’t sure if I could—
“Bones, will you sit for a godsdamned minute?” Trey’s voice sharpened. “What’s goin’ on?”
“I have work to do.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “You can take a break.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not?” he pushed.
“Just let me work.” I could hear the edge of desperation in my voice.
“Why do you need to keep working?” He stepped closer, and the urge to flee crashed over me.
“Trey, please.” I retreated a step.
He stopped in his tracks, studying me. “Does it help?” he asked. “Staying busy?”
I stared at him for a moment, then gave a jerky nod, my throat tight.
“Okay,” he said, surprising me. He glanced around the clinic like I had, and his face brightened. “Um, well, I was actually wonderin’ if you could help me with something?”
I waited, feeling anxious again.
“I ripped my favorite jacket pretty bad. I’ve been meaning to sew it, but well, my stitches aren’t anywhere near as neat as yours.
” He glanced up at where his stitches held my head together.
“Would you mind?” He met my gaze again and smiled.
“You don’t have to, that’s just the first thing I thought of. ”
“Yeah,” I said, “I can do that.”
He grinned, and the warmth of it made my breath catch. “I’ll ask Griz if he can grab it.”
He stepped outside. I heard them talking, so apparently Griz was guarding the clinic. When he stepped back in, he said cheerfully, “Griz is gettin’ it for me. Mac is meetin’ with Madame right now, but they’ll bring a mattress over later.”
Griz returned with the jacket after a few minutes. He scanned me again, then let himself back out. I pulled out the thread I’d found while organizing. The dark green color of the thread clashed with the brown of his jacket. I held it up to show Trey.
“This is the only thread I have.”
“That’s fine. Doesn’t have to match.” He moved over to the sink and rinsed out the bucket he’d used to clean the floor before filling it back up with soapy water. “I’ll clean the windows while you do that.”
I glanced up, surprised. He must have seen me examining them earlier.
He climbed up to the loft and started wiping the windows down as I sat in the exam chair and started sewing his jacket back together.
I kept catching myself watching him work.
He could barely reach most of the window, which meant I never would’ve been able to without climbing on something.
Trey was at least six inches taller than me.
Maybe more. I hadn’t grown much taller than I’d been at ten.
Vulture used to call me petite, but I knew from reading medical textbooks that it was more likely stunted growth from malnutrition.
I focused on making my stitches small and neat. Sewing fabric was easy compared to sewing skin. I used to hate mending as a kid, but mostly because I had to do it as a girl. I’d never admit it out loud, but I ended up grateful for all that mending when I started sewing bodies back together.
Trey descended the ladder. “Windows are clean,” he said as he took the bucket to the sink and dumped out the dirty water.
I finished sewing the tear in his jacket and, after inspecting my work, I got up to show him. Even after a short while of sitting, my body felt stiff and sore, and I knew from experience that tomorrow would be worse.
I thought I’d managed to calm myself down, but when the door opened, I jumped like I’d touched an electric fence. Trey startled at my reaction, his hand darting to the pistol at his hip. Griz stopped in the doorway with a steaming mug, glancing between us. My face flushed hot.
“Sorry, man,” Trey apologized, dropping his hand from the weapon.
“S’alright.” Griz stepped inside and approached with the mug. “Here, Bones.”
I took it, grateful for the warmth of the cup that seeped into my icy hands, but then I realized something. “The bell didn’t ring.”
“I sweet-talked Neena into givin’ me a cup early,” Griz explained. “You didn’t get breakfast.”