Page 17 of Before We Break

She glances down at her knee as though she hadn’t even noticed the blood. “Ah, man! Not my favorite jeans.”

Leave it to Clio to be more worried about the state of her fucking pants.

I lift her into my arms and carry her into the shop, depositing her on my chair. I grab a roll of gauze and tape and settle on my stool in front of her. Gripping both sides of her battered jeans, I tear them open, exposing her bruised and bloodied leg and her swollen ankle in one swift motion.

“Hey!”

“Calm down, princess. I’ll buy you new ones.”

“That’s not the point.”

Ignoring her protests, I run my palm down the outside of her calf, stopping when I get to her ankle. I give it a gentle squeeze. “Does that hurt?”

She shakes her head, but her downcast eyes betray her.

“Don’t lie.”

“A little, but I don’t think it’s broken.”

I smooth my thumb along the darkening bruise. “I’ll wrap it, but I think you should go to the hospital to be sure.”

“Ok.”

I huff out a breath. “You’re not gonna go, are you?”

“Nope.”

I grab the roll of gauze and gently wrap it around her ankle and foot, careful not to pull it too tight. Satisfied, I move onto the wound on her knee, first cleaning up the blood, then applying a layer of antibiotic ointment, blowing lightly on her marred skin.

My hand lingers on her calf as our eyes meet. Something crackles between us for only a second as I gently cover the cut with a bandage. “There. Good as new.”

She draws in a long, slow breath and pinches her eyes shut. “You can let go now.”

“Right. Sorry.” I snatch my hand away and run it through my hair, focusing on anything but her.

She slides off the chair, keeping the pressure off her injured leg. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

She starts to limp away, but I stop her.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “For what I said last night. You caught me on a bad night.”

She snorts. “Wow. An apology from Noah Weston. I’ll have to write this down.” She mimes holding a pen and paper. “Dear diary, Noah Weston apologized to me today. I think he actually meant it. I still can’t stand him, but maybe he’s not so bad after all.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’ve been called worse.” Her smile falters. It’s the second time I’ve caught her faking it in as many days. Maybe there’s more to this ball of sunshine than meets the eye. She rolls her lips together and tosses her hair over one shoulder. “I should go.”

“Miss Clio!” Auggie’s voice carries through the shop as he rushes toward us. “Aunt Emma got me ice cream!”

Clio lowers herself to his level, and this time her smile is genuine. Maybe it’s just me she can’t stand.

“That’s awesome, Auggie. What flavor did you get?”

“Banilla with sprinkles,” he mumbles.

Clio giggles. “I think you mean vanilla.”