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Ooh. Or maybe not. Now, what were the magical words? Probably something silly.
“Mimic-Moppet-Mommity-Moo!” she cried. “I spell you to fix my boo-boo!”
“That was perfect, Sweet Potato.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s still a terrible nickname.”
“Hmm. All right, I’ll try to do better.” His eyes danced with amusement. “Now, come here and let’s see if we can get that finger all fixed up.”
He had her sit on the bed, then he took her hand in his. A shiver ran through her at his touch.
Warm. Firm.
He placed a bit of antiseptic on the cut and blew on it gently.
“Do you think it’s going to get an infection?” she asked worriedly. “Will you have to chop it off?”
She knew she was being silly . . . but sometimes she couldn’t help but worry.
Instead of dismissing her worries as stupid, he gave her a serious look. “I’ll be keeping an eye on it to be sure, but I think we got to it quickly enough to stop you from needing an amputation.”
She heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”
He drew out some Band-Aids and laid them on the bed. There was a pink one with a unicorn on it. Another with a daisy. One with dinosaurs and one with a digger. Ooh, and one with a puppy. But she really liked the one that was a glittery purple color.
“Would you like to pick which Band-Aid you want on?” he asked.
“It’s really hard.” She moved her good finger along them. “But I want this one.” She pointed at the purple glittery one.
“Good choice. These are my favorites.” He was probably just saying that. But it still made her feel happy as he placed the Band-Aid over her scratch.
Then he did something that she knew she would relive in her dreams for a long time to come.
He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed the Band-Aid. “And a healing kiss to help.”
She stared at him in amazement and hoped that he didn’t notice that she was frozen in shock.
“Hey. What’s wrong?” He cupped her face between his hands.
“Sorry . . . it’s just . . . I know it’s only a small scratch, but you still acted like it mattered. Like I mattered. When you could have just dismissed my pain.”
“I wasn’t acting.” He frowned down at her. “And you do matter. Anything that happens to you matters. Who made you feel like you didn’t matter?”
She glanced away. She didn’t know if she wanted to tell him. They didn’t know each other well. But . . . she’d started this now.
“After Dad died, my ma didn’t have much free time. She worked a lot just to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. I didn’t . . . I was just a selfish kid, I guess.”
“Hey. I’m sure you weren’t.”
“I was. I didn’t understand why I wasn’t getting as much attention as I used to. So I . . . this is so embarrassing to say.”
“It’s all right. You can tell me. No judgment.”
“I learned if I was hurt, I got some attention.”
“Oh, Pumpkin.” There was no condemnation on his face. Just understanding.
“So you see, I was selfish. And stupid.”
