Scooting over, she claimed possession of his free hand and drew it closer for inspection.
“I need a first aid kit,” she murmured. She thought she’d noticed one in the bathroom cabinet upstairs in her—his room.
Before she could rise, a white box appeared on her lap. Startled, she bobbled the case before grabbing hold of it and setting in on the couch between them.
“Thank you. But you could have warned me,” she admonished.
Grunting again, he put the glass to his lips once more.
“So,” she remarked as she opened the box and found what she needed. “Do you do this often?” She pinched her lips together when he started a bit as she applied antiseptic to his knuckles.
“Often enough,” he assured her. The alcohol he’d consumed must have begun to kick in, because he actually leered at her now. “You gonna play doctor whenever I come home all banged up?”
She frowned her disapproval.
“Who were you fighting?” she asked. Gideon grimaced when she dabbed a little too firmly at his split lip.
“Your father.”
In an instant, the things Niklas had told her about the relationship Michael and Gideon had shared came back to her. She fought the urge to cringe, hoping against hope that this particular fight hadn’t been over her.
“My…oh. Why were you and Michael fighting?”
“I’ll give you three guesses and the first two—” He broke off, glancing at her stomach. “Well, the first one, at least, doesn’t count.”
“Oh God,” she said, dropping the folded cloth to her lap as she drew back. She felt slightly sick, though she didn’t quite know why. Michael’s reaction shouldn’t matter to her. Not in the least. “You told him about the baby?”
Gideon nodded.
“And that we… That you and I…”
“Kind of hard to have one without the other, now isn’t it?”
“Why does it bother me?” she asked in wonder, shaking her head, not really realizing she was speaking to herself out loud. She swiped the cloth up and began rubbing at the blood by his swollen eye, ignoring the way he cringed away. The big baby. Served him right. “I mean, it’s not like he’s ever been a real father, after all. He was never there when I needed him. Never there when I wanted him to be there. Why should it matter what he thinks?”
Only when Gideon grabbed her wrist did she realize she’d had him bent backwards over the arm of the couch, cowering away from her as she’d angrily scrubbed at his face with the alcohol saturated cloth.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, sitting back, horrified.
Cautious, he settled back in his seat. “One good thing came of it. Samuel knows now.”
“Samuel?” She held up a tube of triple antibiotic.
He eyed it for a moment, then glanced uncertainly at her. “That’s all right, thanks anyway,” he said, shaking his head.
“Oh, good grief,” she snapped, grabbing hold of his chin. But she was more careful now.
Before he could utter protest, she began gently daubing the ointment on his cuts. “Who is Samuel?”
“Samuel is an Angel of Justice. Technically, he’s part of Michael’s flock, but he’s fair to the point of fault. He’s more willing to listen to all sides of the story and take all the circumstances into consideration before he makes judgment.”
“And he’s on our side?”
As soon as the words our side left her mouth, she caught her breath. Our side. When had she cast her lot in with Gideon and his friends? Or was she just referring to herself and Gideon? Or herself and the baby? Or all of the above?
Oh, she felt sick all over again.
“He’ll listen. But”—he motioned toward the sad shape of his face—“I didn’t exactly have time to explain much. Michael had other ideas about the way we should spend our little bit of quality time together.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said again, catching her lower lip between her teeth as she smoothed her thumb over a nasty bruise forming on his jaw. “He shouldn’t have hit you. Not over me.”
“If it hadn’t been over you, it would have been over something else.” He snorted. But, as his gaze finally landed on her face, he must have seen something there that didn’t sit well. “Hey,” he said, sitting up a little straighter and drawing her hands into his lap. “This wasn’t your fault. Michael and I…we have some issues that started long before you were even born.” He frowned then, as if something had just occurred to him he’d not thought of before. Drawing a deep breath, he shook his head, focusing on her once more. “Not your fault,” he said again.
“Oh, but—”
“Stop arguing with me.”
“But, Gideon—”