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“No.” His hand wraps gently around my wrist. “I don’t want to rush you. Take your time.”
“But you just said—”
“I know. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry. I’m just…uncomfortable.” His eyes drop to the ground.
“Withme?”
He releases my wrist. “With this.”
“With what?”
“You doing this. Helping me. Without…”
“Without what?”
His eyes lift back to mine. “Without wanting something.”
“What would I want?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Never mind.” He stands up. “Anyway, thanks for your help.”
“I’m not finished.” I take the bandage and stand up, facing him. “Hold still.” I peel the strip off the bandage and slowly and carefully apply it over his cut, which has started to bleed again. “I really think you need stitches.”
He grabs my wrists.
“What are you—”
“I don’t need stitches,” he says as he takes my hands from his face and lowers them to my side.
“I think you do.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“No, but you shouldn’t still be bleeding like that. That cut’s at least a few days old.”
He slowly releases my wrists. “I’ll be fine.”
“And what if you’re not?”
“Then I’ll go find my nosy new neighbor and see if she’ll help me again.”
I stifle a laugh. “I’m not nosy. Just wait until you meet the other people in town. Talk about nosy. Except they don’t directly ask you anything. Instead they make up their own stories based on rumors and gossip.” I roll my eyes. “It’s what I hate most about living here.”
“So why do you live here?”
“Long story.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Now who’s the nosy one?” I ask kiddingly.
“How long?”
“A few weeks.”
He nods. “Earlier you acted like I was crazy for moving here, and yet you did the same thing.”
“Only because I had to,” I mumble.
