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"Resting comfortably," Sawyer said.
"Any idea what happened to him?"
Sawyer shook his head. "Nothing good," he observed. "He's got several old fractures in a couple of legs and a lot of bruising and scarring. Lots of fresh lacerations too. We're thinking he may have been hit by a car." Sawyer glanced at me and then said, "Turn around."
I did as he said and waited with bated breath for that first touch of his fingers. When it came, it was gentle enough, but there was something missing. His touch was efficient and quick. It was nothing like it'd been when he'd put the stitches in.
"Sorry, this will sting a bit," Sawyer explained as he began to pull the stitches out. "They've been in a little too long."
It did sting but the discomfort had nothing on the anxiety that was going through me. It still felt like I was on the cusp of losing the tenuous connection I had with this man.
"What made you want to be a vet?" I asked in a desperate attempt to ease some of the awkward tension between us. Secretly, I hoped maybe the conversation would bring back the man who'd touched me with such… reverence.
Sawyer didn't respond at first. The knot in my belly grew the longer he remained silent.
"Same thing that drives most people to become vets, I guess. I've always loved animals and knew whatever I did with my life would have to include them as part of it."
"Since you work here, I guess that means you work with large animals rather than small ones," I suggested. When Sawyer responded, his breath washed over the back of my neck and my cock instantly responded. Did the man not have any idea what he was doing?
"I do both," he murmured. "I initially studied large animals because I wanted the excitement of traveling to different places while dealing with all sorts of wildlife."
When he didn't continue, I said, "But something changed." It was a statement, not a question. I didn't know how I knew, I just did.
There was another long pause, this one heavier than the last because Sawyer stopped working on removing the stitches. I was desperate to turn around and see his eyes, but I stayed where I was. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business…"
"My ex… he wasn't a fan of me working with all manner of wildlife."
"Make sense," I said. "He was probably worried sick knowing you were working with such dangerous animals."
I expected him to respond, but Sawyer didn't say anything. It took me a moment to figure out why. The him he'd been talking about… it’d been his ex. Things began to fall into place as I considered his behavior today and the last time we’d been together. Today, he’d compared me to his ex while I'd been in an angry, ugly state. When he'd been stitching me up the previous week, there'd been a moment where he'd seemed afraid of me, of my temper.
I nearly threw up then and there. The idea that someone had hurt this man made me want to put my fist through a wall. But the fact that Sawyer thought I was anything like that was what was making my stomach roil violently. I grabbed the wheels of my chair and turned it around with no warning. Sawyer let out a little sound and I felt a pinch on the back of my neck as he inadvertently yanked one of the stitches out.
"I would never hurt you, Sawyer," I blurted. I shook my head because I still couldn't believe he thought I was capable of something like that. But I supposed I hadn't given him any reason to think otherwise. My words seemed to make Sawyer uncomfortable because he dropped his eyes and fiddled with the instruments in his hands. "Sawyer…"
"I need to finish up here so I can check on the dog," he said softly. He refused to look at me. I hung there for a moment, hoping those beautiful blue eyes of his would lift and I'd see some kind of emotion in them… something that said he understood, that he knew I wasn't a complete and utter asshole. But Sawyer didn't move, he didn't react other than to keep his eyes averted. I forced myself to turn the chair back around. It took him only a handful of seconds to remove the remaining couple of stitches and then I sensed him climbing to his feet.
"There's a little bit of swelling which you can put some ice on, but it should go away in a day or two."
Sawyer moved past me, his little bag in hand, and I knew that was it. I'd fucked up. I wasn't even sure what I'd fucked up exactly, but whatever it was, it was done. He was walking away and there was no stopping him.
