He smirks, not buying it.
I can’t help looking down at his body, zeroing in on the dark bruise over his ribs. I jolt and suck in a ragged breath.
“You right there?”
I wince. “It just looks painful.”
He half-smiles. “I’ll live.”
Beside the bed, a dish holds an ice pack and a damp cloth. I lift the ice pack, offering it to him. “Don’t you want to use this?”
He shrugs in response.
I lower the ice pack to his ribs. “May I?”
His head moves, and I take it as a nod, because ignoring his injuries is impossible.
He winces and hisses when the ice hits his skin.
I keep the ice pack steady. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just cold. I hate the feeling of ice.”
“It’ll help, though.”
He grunts. “Mmm.”
I bite into my lip, peering up at his face. “You’re sweating.”
“I’m fine.”
I settle the ice pack on him and reach for the cloth. “Do you want me to…?”
He flinches. “Want you to do what?”
I hold the cloth closer to his forehead, and he recoils further.
“It’s not chloroformed,” I joke.
He whispers a laugh and eases on the bed. I seize the relaxed moment, dabbing the cloth across his clammy forehead.
His eyes narrow, inspecting me. “Why are you doing this?”
My hand trembles, pulling the cloth back toward me. “I thought it’d make you more comfortable.”
His eye contact intensifies. “So?”
I shiver, placing the cloth back in the dish. “Seeing you collapse was really scary.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to stick around. You could just walk away like the nurses did.”
I swallow the building saliva in my mouth. I can’t explain why it hurt me so much when Cindy and Trisha didn’t want to help him.
“Uhh… I…”
His intensity withers, and he fidgets with the ice pack against his ribs.
With my body flushing with awkwardness, I back my way toward the door. “I should really get back to the desk.”
