"So, who is this Shane you were baking cookies for when you had your accident? Do I need to be worried about him taking my girl away from me?" I pulled open the drawer where I kept the first-aid shit and gathered some sterile gauze and a new ACE bandage still in the package.
She half laughed and groaned. "Well, it's true he's already stolen my heart."
"So, you're telling me I have some competition I didn't even know about?" I kept it light and teasing, as I packed the cut with gauze to absorb the seeping blood. I decided against cleaning or applying any kind of antibacterial because it was probably beyond that scope, especially if the wound was still bleeding, so I wrapped more gauze around the width of her whole hand to close the cut and keep it as stabilized as possible.
"But I told you about him last week," she said tightly, her head still facing the bathroom wall over my shoulder.
"Ahh, so he's a young guy then?" I took the ACE bandage and started wrapping, sealing over the sterile gauze until her hand was completely bound with her thumb flush against the side. It would do until a doctor could get to it.
"Very young." I detected a tiny hint of humor in her voice, and it relieved me.
"Are you cougaring these days, Win? Gosh, I had no idea."
"I don't think cougaring is quite it. That would get me into some trouble with the law considering I'm twenty-four and he's six," she said tiredly.
Shane was the little boy who came to the youth center. I'd be lying if knowing he was a kid didn't make me really fucking happy. I'd also be lying if I couldn't admit that the thought of Winter wanting another guy absolutely cut me off at the knees. I wanted her. I wanted her to be mine. "I must meet this Shane and set him straight. He needs to know that I've got my eyes on him," I joked.
She rested her forehead on my shoulder, and I felt her grow heavy against me as she leaned forward. "I don't feel very good…I think…I…I'm gonna be siiiiick—"
I moved quickly to get her off the countertop and leaned her over the toilet, so she could get it over with. There was nothing fucking worse than the feeling you got right before you're going to puke. Poor thing. I rubbed her back with one hand and turned on the hot water in the sink with the other. She gagged and retched but not a lot came out. When she was done, I flushed the toilet and closed the lid and helped her to sit on top of it. "You okay, sweetheart?" I handed her a wet washcloth.
She buried her face in the washcloth with her good hand and groaned. "Yeah…better. Thank you. I don't know what I would have done if you w-weren't"—a deep shuddering sob escaped—"h-here to help m-m-me."
"Shhhh." I put the washcloth back under the running water and then held her face to mine. "But I was here. And you came to get me, and everything is going to be fine. We need to clean you up a bit and get you dressed, and then we can go."
"Okay." She looked so sad and defeated as she stared at me with her tear-filled eyes and nodded her head a few times. I wanted to kiss her. Crazy lunatic that I was, I wanted to kiss her right now, while she was scared and hurt and upset. What the fuck is wrong with you?
What was wrong with me was I had it bad for a girl I should not have had it bad for.
I wet the washcloth a second time and wrung it out. I started with the blood on her arms first before moving to her legs. She glanced at me working a few times, now that her cut was out of sight. I caught a shudder or two from her as the blood was wiped away, and sympathized with her queasiness at the sight of it. Because there was a lot to clean off her. At least I could admire her gorgeous legs beneath my hands with nothing but the flimsy robe covering her. I'd gotten a peek of sexy pink panties when she'd been bent over and retching, so at least she wasn't totally naked underneath the thing, and we didn't have that awkwardness to deal with on top of everything else. What I wouldn't give to touch her like this without it being a fucking traumatic situation for her. Christ, it was hard to remain calm when my heart was pounding inside my chest from being so physically close I could smell her. Oranges. Her scent always reminded me of oranges.
When the last of the dried blood was wiped away, I was relieved. I wasn't made of stone, and touching her so intimately had given me an epic and totally inappropriate hard-on. A raging boner she would have noticed if she weren't so out of it.
"Listen, I'm gonna have you lie on my bed while I take a two-minute shower before I get dressed, because I know I stink." She could hardly sit up, and I definitely couldn't trust her not to fall and crack her head open, so bed was my only option.
She didn't even take the golden opportunity I'd handed her to joke about my stench. "That's a good idea," she weakly, closing her eyes the second she was prone on my bed. My Winter was a beautiful mess at the moment. My Winter was in my bed…
God.
"I'll be back in five minutes ready to go." She nodded at me without opening her eyes. "Just keep breathing deep and steady, and try to relax." I fought the urge to kiss her again.
I hit the bathroom and ditched my shorts for what had to be my speediest shower on record. I didn't even wait for the water to get all the way hot, but jumped under the spray, got wet, soaped myself, rinsed, and stepped out. The cool water gave the added advantage of tamping down my dick, so…bonus.
I dried off as I walked to my closet. Winter never even glanced my way and looked like she was asleep. Maybe that was another positive though. She didn't need the added complication of my cock on display and gunning for her.
God, what a clusterfuck.
Five minutes later I was dressed, but Winter wasn't. I couldn't take her into the ER in the flimsy—read, sexy-as-fuck—robe. Well, it could be sexy if not covered in blood. She needed clothes.
And that was a problem.
Because Winter was so wiped out physically—practically incoherent after the panicking and puking—and was no help whatsoever. I'd have to figure out how to get her dressed on my own.
Thank God her apartment door hadn't locked behind her when she'd left to find me, because we didn't share spare keys. Caleb probably had one, but he wasn't here to ask. Once I had a spare moment at the ER, I'd let him know what happened to his sister.
Winter mumbled something I couldn't decipher as I took her into her bedroom. To save time, I'd carried her out of my apartment, used the elevator to get us to her floor, and continued to carry her to her place rather than trying to help her walk. Despite the shitty circumstances, I loved the fact she was in my arms right now. So close to me. But Winter was in and out, and not fully in control by any stretch. "What you want to wear?" I asked against her ear, so she might hear me and actually comprehend my question.
She pointed to her walk-in. "Left side drawers has…y-y-yoga pants…Red S-s-sox sh-shirrrrt…"
"Okay, wait here and just keep breathing. Think about something nice and good to take your mind off everything," I said as I carefully lowered her onto her bed.
"You're nice and good, James. Soooo…good to me…alllll the time," she said in a lax voice with her eyes closed. I wondered what in the hell was going on in her mind to make her say those words to me right at this moment. In spite of her trauma, she was telling me that I was good and nice? Winter never ceased to amaze me with how big her heart was. It took every ounce of strength I had in me to leave her to go into her closet and search for yoga pants and a Sox shirt. I'd have to deal.
I found out the hard way that "dealing" sucked ass.
Undressing a woman was easier than putting clothes back on. This I discovered when said woman was barely able to stand. I felt myself breaking out in a sweat after dragging and yanking the gray yoga pants up her long sexy legs. At least the bottom half of her was covered, I reasoned after I'd finished.
But the top half of her was about to get uncovered, because I had to remove the robe to put a shirt on her. There was a twinge of guilt at seeing her bare breasts…but not that much. It was a clear case of sorry, not sorry.