There are stitches along his ribs that tore open.
Not horribly.
But enough.
“You reopened a wound. What happened?”
“I noticed it opened.”
I glare up at him.
He glares right back. “Not now Hannah.”
The little girl beside me whispers quietly, “You are married?”
Both of us answer instantly.
“No.”
Then we look at each other.
The child blinks between us in obvious confusion.
Behind me, Miles starts laughing harder.
“Not helping,” Clay mutters.
I press antiseptic against his side harder than necessary.
He flinches.
Slightly.
Satisfaction flickers through me.
“Stop getting shot at,” I mutter.
“Stop running toward gunfire.”
Fair.
The realization almost makes me smile despite the situation.
Almost.
The commander watches us for another long second before speaking again.
“You care for each other deeply.”
Clay’s entire body goes cold beside me.
Dangerously cold.
I feel it immediately.
Like something inside him just shut off.
I finish wrapping the clean gauze around his ribs quickly while trying very hard not to react to the commander’s words myself.
