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“What can I do? How can I help?” The words tumbled out of me in a rush.
He didn’t respond immediately—he just closed his eyes, sucking in labored breaths. “It’s just a flesh wound,” he said. “Just...hurts.”
I nodded, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. I took off my jacket and pressed it onto his wound. “Just hang on, okay?” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. “We’ll get you patched up.”
He gave a weak nod of his own, his eyelids heavy. I helped him to his feet, taking most of his weight as we slowly trudged back through the woods towards our cabin. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You should see the other guy.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from my throat at his attempt at lightening the mood. His humor, however strained, was a comfort in the enveloping darkness.
“The famed Callahan charm, still alive and kicking,” I said, my voice shaky. He grunted in response, a small smirk forming on his face.
It felt like it took forever to get him back to the house, every second stretched out into eternity, his hand clutching the fabric to his side to try to stop the bleeding. He was heavy against me, his head lolling against my shoulder, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps that sent a chill down my spine. My legs felt numb as I stumbled forward, praying silently for strength.
I didn’t want to do it aloud. I was worried it might frighten him.
Tristan was relatively quiet, other than the occasional curse word that slipped past his lips when he moved a certain way. With considerable effort, I managed to drag him inside, to the couch. “Where do you keep your first aid kit?” I asked him.
“No time for that,” he said. “We need to get out of here–”
“I’m going to help you, then we can run again,“ I interrupted.
“Ade–”
“Stop,” I snapped. “You’re hurt, and you…you’re my prisoner now, okay? So do what I tell you.”
He sighed and winced at the exhale of breath, his wound still bleeding.
“Bathroom cabinet,” he replied.
I nodded, leaving him on the couch while I rushed to the bathroom. I rummaged through the cabinet, finding bandages, antiseptic, and a small bottle of painkillers. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in—Tristan had been shot. He was bleeding and in pain because he’d been trying to protect me.
Tristan.
Shot.
The thought rolled around my mind as I hurried back to his side, first aid kit in hand. His blue eyes were glassy when I returned, and his skin was pale and slick with sweat.
“I’m going to clean your wound now,” I murmured, preparing a cloth soaked in antiseptic. “This might sting a bit.”
“Just do it,” he grunted, his jaw clenching as I pressed the cloth onto his wound. He flinched and hissed through his teeth, but held still as I cleaned around the ragged edges.
The sight of his blood, bright and arresting against his pale skin, had my heart pounding loudly in my ears. This was too real, too close. His blood looked like it swirled around the ink of his tattoos. I dabbed at the wound, doing my best to clean it out as much as possible without causing him further pain.
A chilling thought suddenly occurred to me–what if he’d been hit somewhere vital? What if there was internal damage that I couldn’t see? I swallowed down the wave of panic rising in my throat, reminding myself that Tristan said it was just a flesh wound. But then again, he could be lying just to keep me calm.
“Were you being honest with me when you said this wasn’t that bad?” I whispered. “Tristan–you have to be honest with me. We’re in this together, if you pass out or die–”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered. “I’m fine.”
I mustered the courage to look up at Tristan, and our eyes met–his were full of pain but also…warmth. I felt a strange fluttering sensation in my stomach as he gave me a half-smile, even through the visible discomfort.
“You’re doing good,” he hissed through his teeth.
“I’m trying,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. His gaze held mine for a moment longer before he turned his head away, his jaw set in a tight line.
“See? He just grazed me,” Tristan said. “Looks worse than it is.”
I nodded, my fingers gingerly applying a clean bandage to his side. I tried to keep my touch light, trying not to cause him any more pain. But the truth was I was terrified.
