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“Unfiltered response?” Kenna transitioned to her trademark criss-cross pose. A coy smile graced her lips. “A hand on my thigh 10 minutes into a first date is a huge red flag.”
“Young men are like animals. Truthfully, aging doesn’t save all of us.” He laughed, wincing at the pain from the incision. His hand flew to the spot in reflex.
What followed was unexpected in the most delightful way. She placed her hand over the one that was limp at his side.
He marveled at the sight of her delicate hand atop his own, admiring the glow she radiated on the backdrop of his tanned flesh. Dayton studied the creases of her knuckles, the length of her nails, the chipped navy polish.
The pain in his chest worsened as she retracted her perfect hand. Grimacing, she quietly asked, “Does it hurt?”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Why do guys always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Pretend something’s not a big deal when, clearly, it is.” She accentuated the arches of her thin, pale brows. The faintness of their flex still proved intimidating.
“Miss O’Ca—Kenna, this is the second occasion I’ve had this surgery. The minor aches and pains that accompany it aren’t unfamiliar.”
She didn’t think hearing Dr. Merino say her name would have an effect on her. To call it profound would’ve underplayed what she felt. The fact that he was her mentor became easier to ignore when ‘Kenna’ tumbled from his lips.
The lines were no longer blurred, but entirely absent. The vulnerability that shone through on his face was inescapable, piercing her like a dagger.
Therein lay the danger.
Kenna glanced between him and her backpack before crossing the room and retrieving a plastic bag from the main compartment.
“I ran across the street to the drugstore earlier, when Alex dropped me off.” Her breathing accelerated as she surrendered it to him. “It’s not much, but maybe it’ll help you feel a little more human while you’re trapped in this place.”
She tugged at the hem of her shirt while awaiting his reaction. As he undid the knot, she noticed the relevant details of his hospital band: Dayton Edward Merino, birthdate 11/13/81.
He untied the bag containing deodorant, shampoo, bodywash, toothpaste, and a toothbrush. His eyes settled on her, gaze unfocused. “You’re an angel.”
Heat crept over her neck and shame encased her with the intention to drown. Foaming white water rapids.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Do you need help?”
“Didn’t have leg surgery,” Dr. Merino deadpanned as he padded to the bathroom with his new commodities.
She shook her head, smiling like a lunatic, but the second he left the room her cheeriness subsided and she grabbed her laptop from the backpack.
With any luck, he’d be in the bathroom long enough for Kenna to do some recon. The water creaked on, and she felt it was safe to pull up Facebook.
Clicking on the message tab, she scrolled through her conversation threads until she found Brandi. Her confidence faltered when the message box queued up. She rubbed her ears, releasing a fractured breath.
A few days ago she wouldn’t have had any qualms sending this message. As she sat shifting in that chair, it felt like a betrayal. It would have been rotten continuing to go behind Dr. Merino’s back after everything that had happened that weekend. Yet, a dogged persistence broke through Kenna’s wall of guilt and that determination triumphed over the heaviness in her body. No matter what condition plagued him, he remained a danger to society—at least to the female population.
Hey,
Do you think your sister would be willing to meet up with me? I can’t shake what you said about Dr. M.
Right as she pressed send,Dr. Merino partially ducked out of the bathroom. Kenna dared a glance at the bandaged left side of his bare chest. The bandage was much smaller than she’d expected, and it was in a peculiar place.
“I don’t want to seem needier than I am, but could you track down a few towels?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
