Page 25 of I’m The Worst

I tilt her chin and breathe into her mouth. Once. Twice.

Her lashes flutter. It’s working.

“Wolff…” She shudders violently as circulation fights its way back in. “Let me go.”

My grip tightens.

“No, solnyshko.” The endearment slips out. I hate that it did.

“I just want to die.”

I don’t give a fuck what you want.

I grab her wrist and shove her hand back under the spray. Her fingers twitch, and her breath catches.

“It hurts,” she chokes out, trying to pull away. I grip tighter, forcing circulation.

I keep rubbing, working the cold out of her limbs. With each passing second, she becomes more aware of where she is. Her head tilts. She’s staring too hard. Like she’s trying to find something in me that isn’t there.

“You could’ve left me.”

“Should’ve.” I grab her chin and turn her head, checking the cut on her temple. “You’d be someone else’s corpse.”

She’s breathing too close to my neck. Close enough that I can see the tiny gold flakes in her hazel eyes.

I twist the knob and kill the water.

Stepping out, I grab a towel off the hook and dry off fast. Cold air ghosts over my skin as I pull on dry sweats and a long sleeve from the dresser.

When I turn back, she’s still in the tub. Barely upright. One hand braced on the tile, a towel wrapped around her, water dripping from her hair.

“I need to stitch your head.” I nod toward the bed.

“What’s wrong with my head?” She reaches up, fingers brushing the cut. The second she steps out of the tub, she sways. My fingers flex at my sides before I stop them.

Slowly, she makes it to the bed on her own and sits, clutching the towel tighter across her chest.

I grab the med kit and rip it open.

She watches me while I clean the blood away. Her eyes stay locked on my face. Even when the antiseptic pours onto the wound and she sucks in a sharp breath.

“Why do you do that?”

I keep working. “Do what.”

“Go quiet. Ignore questions.”

The needle slides through her skin. I tie the stitch tighter than necessary.

She winces.

“I don’t like talking.”

“Why?”

I cut the thread with my teeth and wipe the last of the blood away.

Standing, I grab an oversized thermal and a pair of sweats from the dresser and toss them onto the bed. She studies me for another second before turning away to dress.