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“I hope so. I miss Blake and Evie.”
“Me too, bud. Evie more than Blake,” I confess, making him smile.
Sifting through the medical supplies the man brought, I glance between surgical wipes and Zay.
My hands begin to tremble again as I consider what I’m going to have to do.
He really needs to hope that some of Mum’s skills have rubbed off on me over the years.
“What’s all that?” he asks as I start laying gauze and wipes and things out.
“Um… You know you said you hit your head? Well, you’ve got a cut that I really need to clean up.”
He frowns before lifting his hand to the back of his head. He winces as he finds it before sobbing when he sees his fingers covered in blood.
I try not to look, and instead I focus on what he needs me to do.
Right now, he only has me to rely on, and I need to do everything I can to make this bearable.
“Can you lie down on your front? I need to see it.”
“D-do you know what you’re doing?” he asks, following my instruction.
“Of course,” I lie. “My mum’s a nurse. She’s taught me everything.”
Ripping open a wipe, I lower myself to my knees beside him and suck in a deep breath through my nose and out through my mouth.
You can do this, Alex. It’s just a little bit of blood. No big deal.
With another steadying breath, I lean over Zay and gently part his hair, searching for the wound.
“Is it bad?” Zay asks, his voice trembling.
He can sense your fear, you pussy.
You’ve patched up D and the guys plenty of times. Why is this any different?
“No. It’s barely anything,” I lie, hanging my head as the pressure gets to me. “I’m really sorry, Zay. But this is probably going to hurt.”
“I can handle it.”
“I know you can, bud.”
The second I press my fingers against his hair to get a better look and clean him up, he winces. But that’s the only reaction he has as I work.
“I’m going to need to glue this together, bud. You okay there?”
“Glue?” he asks, sounding horrified.
“Would you rather I try my hand with a needle and thread?”
“Umm…”
“Exactly. It’s just going to seal the wound and stop it from bleeding. You ready?” I ask, pulling the lid from the tube of glue with my teeth. Probably not the most hygienic way of doing it, but what other choice do I have? Leave it to get infected and turn gross?
“Just do it.”
Getting as much of his hair out of the way as possible, I warn him before pushing the skin together to close the wound and running a generous amount of glue across the seam.
