Jesus, I said thataloud?
“Only family can be back here.” His eyes narrow. “Are youfamily?”
Eve considers this. “I mean, not technically, but from a spiritual perspective—”
“Thenget out!”
My eyes widen. Julian has the bedside manner of a German shepherd on meth. Eve winces at me apologetically, then runs for the waiting room.
He spins back to me. “On the count of three, you’re going to let go, and I’m going to staunch the wound with this gauze. You will befine. Ready?”
“No,” I cry. “Call Dr. Appa! Make him come in!”
“Dr. Srinivasan is at home asleep, so you’re stuck with me, Wyeth.” Julian’s blue eyes are as intense now as they were staring me down across our debate podiums. “One.”
“No-no-no!”
“Two.” He leans forward, like he’s about to pounce.
I squinch up my entire face.
“THREE!”
And God help me, I do it. I let go. I squeal as Julian’s broad palm comes down like a hammer against the entire area. There’s at least an inch of gauze between us, but the firm pressure feels like such relief, I collapse backward, limp. When I open my eyes, Julian’s poised between my parted legs. His face is nearly purple now.
He’s breathing in, silently counting to four and out for a count of six.
“Are you—alright?” What is it with other people experiencing palpable distress overmybloody vu—area?
His eyes snap up to mine. “I’mfine. Once again, are you under the influence of recreational drugs?”
“No.”
Yes. But I’m not telling him that.
I scowl at the wall. Guess legalization didn’t shake Julian’s historic scorn for cannabis.
His gaze flicks down to the gauze, then back to my face. He clears his throat. “The bleeding is under control now. I’m going to remove the gauze so I can inspect the wound.”
“No!” I slam my knees together on instinct, trapping his hand there. Julian’s expression is truly alarmed. “I-I’m scared,” I finally admit, my knees slacking open.
“I’ll be gentle,” he says, his voice low and strangely husky. It plucks something inside of me. Julian sucks a deep breath in and repositions his palm slightly, sending a wave of heat through my broken bits up to my belly.
Oh, NO!Spinster Nomi gasps.The horny pot!
Now I’m as red as Julian. I start to cover my face with my hands, but they’re coated with blood. There’s nowhere to hide in this hell I’ve entered.Please don’t get wet. Please don’t get—
“I’m peeling back the corner.” Julian removes the gauze. Another sharp breath in.
“Is it that bad?” I cry.
“No, but I need to—remove the blood—to examine the laceration.” His words come out thick, and he clears his throat as he dabs the area with saline-soaked gauze. His touch is surprisingly soothing, and I start the same breathing technique just to keep my head on straight about this.
Julian D’Angelo is cleaning my vulva.
Julian D’ANGELO is CLEANING my VULVA.
JULIAN D’ANG—
