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“Damn, if I had seen that, I might not be as upset by the near-death experience,” he mutters.
“You didn’t …”
“No. I didn’t see a thing but a blur of gold metal before it crashed into my skull,” he interrupts.
I sigh as relief crawls down my body.
Thank goodness.
“Not my finest moment,” I declare.
“I don’t know. It was an impressive throw. You could have been a quarterback,” he teases.
My eyes fall to his wrapped wrist. “Is your arm broken?”
He lifts the hand not holding mine.
“Nah, it’s just a soft-tissue injury. Doc wanted to use the splint to keep the muscles and ligaments in my hand and wrist stable while it heals.”
“Jeez.”
“No big deal. I hurt myself worse at the workshop daily,” he whispers.
I look back up at him. “Sure you do.”
We stand there, my hand in his, for a few beats when Willa clears her throat.
He drops his grip on my hand, and I step back.
“Are you hungry?” Willa asks.
Bran’s eye shoots past me to the couch. “Starving. Plus, I just swallowed a handful of painkillers, so if I don’t eat soon, I could end up being the naked one, dancing on the coffee table.”
“Don’t threaten us with a good time. You might not get a thing to eat,” she says as she stands.
She grabs Keller by the shirt as she passes him.
“Follow me, fellas,” she beckons.
We all make our way to the kitchen, where Willa and I heat up leftovers and feed them.
Bran
Iwake up and blink a couple of times before I realize my one eye is still taped shut.
According to the doctor, a shard of glass from the window at the Gingerbread Inn sliced into my cornea and caused quite a laceration. He assured me that the human eye was very resilient and most patients with the same injury would heal on their own within three to four days. However, because of the depth of the cut, he wanted me to err on the side of caution, use an antibiotic eye drop, and wear this ridiculous patch to protect the eye for at least a full week.
I roll out of bed and groan as the pain shoots from my hip up to my side.
Making my way to the kitchen to start the coffeepot, I stop when I catch sight of myself in the mirror hanging above the bookshelf outside of my bedroom.
Yikes.
The entire right side of my face is as black as coal.
I turn and look at myself, moving my head from side to side.
“Even black and blue, you are a handsome devil, Mr. Prince,” I tell my reflection.
