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I hold up the kit to him. “You’re bleeding.”
He stares at me for a moment and then uses his shoulder to wipe the blood again before picking up another log, ignoring me.
Opening the box, I take out the Neosporin. “The ointment will keep it from tearing,” I say, calming my voice and trying. “Put the ointment on it.”
He stops, his hesitant eyes going from me to the tube in my hand.
I ease my shoulders, forcing myself to relax. I don’t want to fight today.
“Sit down,” I tell him softly. “Please.”
His eyes narrow, and he doesn’t move.
I gesture to the tree stump, softening my voice to almost a whisper. “Please sit down.”
He waits a few seconds, staring at me, but then…he sits.
Setting the box down, I take out an anti-bacterial wipe and move over to him, avoiding his eyes as I stand over him.
I clean off the blood on his face, gently wiping the scratches, as well, but I feel his eyes watching every move I make. They follow me as I lean down and pick at the dried blood and then rise up again to uncap the ointment. It doesn’t feel like the other night when he wanted me. Now, it’s like he’s scared of me. He’s watching for a wrong move.
I swallow. “Keeping it moist will keep it from scabbing, and it’ll heal quicker,” I tell him, dabbing ointment on his jaw. “Keep reapplying this, okay?”
I generously cover the entire length of the wound, blinking when the smell of soil, wood, and wet air hits me. He always seems to smell like that.
He says nothing, his chest rising and falling with breaths too perfect and controlled as if each one is an effort to stay calm.
His fists are balled as they rest on his lap, and I glance at him, our eyes meeting. A shiver runs through me. I like that he’s scared.
I get closer out of spite, dabbing far more ointment than he needs.
“You didn’t shoot that guy yesterday, did you?” I joke.
I glance over, and he’s still silently watching me.
But to my surprise, there’s amusement in his gaze.
My heart skips, and my insides feel like a warm puddle. It’s not a smile, but it’s soft. Like how I felt with him the other night for a few seconds. Like I could sink into someone.
I clear my throat and stand up. “Alright.” I recap the tube and hand it to him. “Here.”
He takes it, not once blinking as he stares at me.
“Reapply before bed,” I tell him.
But he doesn’t nod or do anything that acknowledges he heard me except continue to gawk.
“Lunch!” Noah calls.
I startle, looking across the yard to see him heading for the other truck.
“Wanna drive with me?” he asks. “I’m going to get cheeseburgers.”
I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or his brother, but I look back down at Kaleb and see him still looking at me.
And I’m not…confident about being left here alone with him.
I should go with Noah.
