Chapter 15 #2
“I get it, though,” I say. “Wanting to protect the people you care about from unnecessary distress. Make things easier on them. It’s noble. It’s one of the things I—” I stop myself before I scare her off. “Well, you can’t go fighting rain clouds.”
Cielo hums and closes her eyes.
I’d close mine, but this moment is too beautiful.
Every detail perfect. Water pools in the dip between her collarbones and her lips gently part as she relaxes her jaw.
I want to memorize every detail and immortalize them in lyrics, set them to the strum of a guitar and hold up a mirror for Lo in song.
Try to show her how it makes me feel to be with her right now.
I want to play music for Lo again. I crave her praise, yes, but more than that: I want her to understand how I feel and it’s somehow easier to play than to speak.
Water gently swishes around Lo as she slowly waves her arms to stay above the surface. Smooth stones are only inches under our feet, but the dark water and murky sky feel merged thanks to the sensation of weightlessness.
“I’ve been a real bitch lately,” she says, regret in her voice.
I stay quiet, waiting for her to continue.
She huffs playfully. “Don’t rush to argue with me, now.”
“There’s no use fighting someone who’s always right.”
She splashes me and I yelp when the cold water hits my face. “Gah! You witch!”
Lo grins widely. My cheeks hurt from doing the same. God, I love her sense of humor.
“Come here,” I say, pulling her closer. Her arm is freezing under my hand. I should get her out of this water soon. “I was just waiting for you to go on, you know. Why do you say that about yourself?”
“Because I’ve been treating you like crap. Aidan, I’m sorry.”
Our foreheads press together. Lo is close enough to kiss. All I have to do is give in to the gravitational pull between us.
I lower my voice. “This hasn’t been easy for me, either. I’m afraid I don’t know how to talk to you anymore and I never know if I’m making it worse between us.”
“You’re not.”
Earlier today, in this very creek, she’d said it was a bad idea for us to kiss. But I want to soothe away every worry in her heart. Warm her in my arms.
“Remember what I said about your name when we met?” I ask.
The memory softens her features. “?‘Oh, Cielo? That means “heaven” in Spanish, right?’?” she says in a horrible mimic of my accent. Not that I can do an American one well.
“Then you told me that you’re actually a hellacious bitch.”
“Figured it was only fair to warn you. The name really doesn’t suit me.”
“Yes, it does.” She’s radiant and untouchable. She is heavenly to me. “I’ve missed you,” I admit, cupping her jaw.
Our mouths are so close I can sense the warmth. Cielo’s absence has been like a phantom limb. When I got terribly lost while visiting Brussels or wanted feedback on lyrics in progress…my instinct was to call Lo. “But it feels inadequate to say. It’s not enough.”
Her eyes lock onto mine. “I missed you, too.”
She needs to know that I want to rekindle what we once had. She needs to hear that I’m sorry.
“Lo, I have to tell you—”
Something catches her attention. “Hang on, you’ve got a leaf on your neck.” Lo reaches to brush it off then recoils in horror. “Oh, hell no.”
“What?” On its own accord, my hand rises to touch whatever it is, because I can’t feel anything.
“Don’t!”
“You’re freaking me out. What is on me?”
Something sends her into a full-body gag, and she flails her arms like she’s trying to shake something off.
“It’s a fecking leech, isn’t it?”
“I know I have to be detached about things like this on the job, but right now my skin is crawling.” It’s not often you get to see something rattle Lo, but she doesn’t deal with anything that creeps or slithers.
“Okay. I can handle this,” she says, pulling herself together. “We need to break the suction first. If you just rip it off, the mouth pieces could get stuck in the wound and cause an infection.”
The thought of pieces of leech being caught in my neck makes me go green. “Go on, then.”
“I’d rather do it where I can see properly. And I’ll need something to stop the bleeding then anyway.”
“How do you know so much about this?”
“One of my first patients chopped two of his fingers off reaching under a lawn mower to free a jammed stick.”
One moment, I’m holding Cielo’s wet, nearly nude body against me. The next, I’m being feasted on by a parasite and discussing dismemberment. I wince but fail to see the connection.
“Medicinal leeches are helpful when we have a replantation of the digits,” Lo explains.
“They help the swelling. It sounds like something from another century, but when other methods fail, applying leeches to the healing site can mean the difference between keeping your fingers or not. Pretty revolting, though.”
In different circumstances, I might find that fascinating. Lo’s perpetual curiosity has rubbed off on me before. Currently, however, I just want this bloodsucker off me.
Towels wrapped around ourselves, we sprint back to the castle. She borrows a first aid kit from reception, leaving a dripping trail through the lobby as she leads me to her room. It’s decorated in the same decadent, historically inspired style as mine, and as pristine as it was upon check-in.
We set our clothes on a chair and rush to the bathroom sink.
Lo’s face barely contorts when she sees the leech writhe against my skin.
I think it’s because she knows I can see her clearly now.
She’s the picture of professionalism, neatly arranging the first aid kit on the counter before we begin: tweezers, tongue depressor, a small tube of hemostatic powder, saline, ointment, plasters.
“So much for a night swim being relaxing for you,” I say. She’d always gravitated to the water to blow off steam, so it sounded like a good idea to me. “Now you’re back to work.”
“No, no. It was just what I needed.”
We smile at each other a moment, still damp and dripping under the vanity light. I’d let myself get covered in these retched things if it meant Lo’s happiness. Then she arms herself with a set of tweezers in one hand and a wooden tongue depressor in the other and my anxiety spikes.
“Wait.”
“Don’t worry. It won’t hurt. There’s also an analgesic in their saliva,” she tells me. “So you probably won’t feel anything at all.”
“Before you start, I should check you for leeches.”
“Stop stalling.”
“Just let me check. I know you don’t want one of these on you.”
Cielo had been so concerned about me that she hadn’t thought to do a quick scan of herself. Her expression wavers between revulsion and hesitation. “Okay. But this isn’t some striptease.”
I ought to school my expression, but when she opens the white towel to reveal the lovely expanse of lace and light brown skin, I can’t help what my face does.
“You’re enjoying this parasite check far too much.”
“Guilty. Turn around so I can check your back.”
Lo holds the towel in front of her and slowly turns. Those lace knickers form a little triangle at her sacrum, drawing my eye to her deliciously wide hips and round ass. I do not have the willpower for this.
“All clear.”
She draws the towel back around her and tucks it under her arms. “Now you.”
“Me?”
“You might have one in a place other than your neck.”
“You’re awfully keen to get a look at my arse.”
She pretends to be scandalized. “I’m a healthcare professional performing a duty here.”
“Only fair, I guess, after you showed me yours.” My towel drops and her pupils dilate as they skim over the ink on my chest and the wet briefs clinging to me. Her gaze hovers a little too long to be purely clinical.
“Just the one,” Cielo says. “Now if you’re done showing off, let’s take care of it.”
The terrycloth wrapped around her torso slips a little when she presses against my neck to break the suction.
“Quit staring,” she whispers in playful admonishment.
“Some bedside manner, Dr. Valdez.” Worried about causing more damage, I try to keep still. My voice softens. “I bet you have repeat offenders coming through the A&E just for the chance of getting stitched up by you.”
She shakes her head like that’s a ridiculous notion, but I’m only half kidding.
“In the future, when you’re taking care of the little ones, you’ll be their favorite.”
“You really think so?”
“Mark my words.”
I feel a pinch, and a splat in the sink catches my attention. The leech squirms in the elegant porcelain bowl. Lo and I shout in unison, a duet of disgust. We’ve grabbed each other for support, my palms firm on her shoulders, hers wrapped around my biceps. Our eyes meet.
“Kill it! Kill it with fire!” she shouts.
I snatch the tweezers and grab the slimy bastard. Lo flips the toilet seat up. I fling it into the bowl and send it to hell with a flush.
Lo dry heaves again. “Ugh. I need to clean you up. Hold still.”
She’s ready with saline rinse and a tube of powder to clean the bite. She dusts it on and I flinch. “Sorry,” she murmurs.
“Lo, don’t apologize. I’m just glad it bit me and not you.”
She presses the plaster against my neck, gently rubbing her thumb along the edges so the corners don’t peel.
As the eldest child in my family, I’ve always been the one to care for Fionn and Marie, to help my parents in tight spots, especially when they moved to Galway.
We never had much ourselves, but I learned to care for others.
Until Lo, I hadn’t ever felt the warmth that blooms, the absolute magic of having someone, someone as gorgeous and capable as Lo no less, tuning in to your needs.
Not out of obligation or duty or familial love, but because she wanted to take care of me.
Now that I’ve made a name for myself, people want a piece of me for their own reasons.
It feels good to simply be cared for by Lo.
“You had something to tell me earlier,” she says. “Don’t think I forgot about that.”