North pauses, staring at me, something in his gaze. Then he swallows thickly, gives a single nod, and marches across my lawn and up my porch steps. I have no idea if Mr. Baylin is out there watching, but if he is, he’s going to tell Easton, and I will never live this down.
Fortunately, I don’t have time to think about it. North hip-checks my front door open, then storms into the living room and sets me on the couch with a little more force than is probably necessary.
He stares down at me for an eternal second, then drops to his knees and wrenches mine apart before sitting himself between them.
What I want to happen isn’t happening. I know that much. But I also don’t know what the hell he’s doing. His rough fingers take me by the chin, and he tilts my head up.
“First aid kit.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“First aid kit. Do you have one,” he says patiently, though his tone is still a little sharp.
“I…” Do I? I probably do. There’s not a chance in hell Easton would let me live on my own without making sure I had an emergency kit for literally any and every disaster that might occur. Hell, I’m pretty sure he put together a tornado kit, and I’m not sure Harmony Creek has ever been touched by one.
As I try to remember where my brother might have put it, my thoughts feel suddenly muddled, and that’s when I realize there’s something dripping down my temple. I swipe my fingers through it before North can stop me, but he does catch me by the wrist and makes an irritated sound.
Yep. That’s blood.
I’m bleeding.
I feel myself go pale, and my vision goes hazy.
“Faint or seizure?” North asks. I say nothing, and he grips my chin with his free hand and gives it the most gentle shake. “Come on, Leo. Faint or seizure.”
I lick my lips slowly. “Neither.” Because I refuse to do either. I take a few deep breaths, and I feel heat return to my cheeks. Too much of it, actually. Now I’m hyperaware of everything going on, but at least I won’t lose consciousness.
“Look at me,” North says.
I obey without thinking, and my gaze catches on a couple of small, dark moles he has under his left eye. God, he really is so pretty.
“I know your brother too well to know he hasn’t left you with a very well-stocked kit. Where is it?”
Eventually, I remember. Easton put it somewhere that would be easy to access. “Bathroom. Under the sink.”
North lets me go and stands up, but instead of walking away, he sets one hand on the sofa behind my head and leans in so close he could kiss me.
Shit.
Maybe I should kiss him?
No, bad idea.
“Don’t move,” he rumbles. The sound grazes my cheeks and caresses the insides of my ear.
Is that a weird way to experience his voice?
Probably.
I say nothing and watch as he pulls back, then disappears down the hall, only to hop out a second later, like he’s trying to catch me being disobedient. Which I’m not, but only because I’m in pain and a little too shaken to move.
I’m not doing it because he said so, damn it. I’mnot.
Iswear.
Taking a deep breath, I lean my head back and listen to him rummage around my bathroom until the sounds go silent. Then there are footsteps on the floor, and seconds after that, there’s a warm body next to mine.
“Open your eyes,” he says right before a soft touch skitters across my jaw.
