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Damian’s brows crinkled together. He looked slightly amused.
“It’s not funny.” I cried, feeling like I couldn’t be more ready to climb in bed and go to sleep.
“Let’s just give that a few minutes, and then we’ll get you stitched up. Let’s have a look at your feet.” Dr. Clifton rolled down to my feet and pushed a button, raising me up so he could look at my feet.
As I looked at Damian, I tried to figure him out. He was an ass sometimes, but when he looked at me with the warmth in his eyes like he was right now; it made me feel invincible. I didn’t know what would have happened if I would have just gone home. I might have still been fired, and instead I’d watched as he tenderly cradled me, being so gentle. Somewhere inside of that grouchy man was a tender, concerned one. I felt myself longing for a piece of what we had in Hawaii, even though there were miles and miles of ocean between that Damian and this one. I could dream, couldn’t I?
“How’s it looking down there?” Damian asked, still rubbing my knee gently. His touch sent a throbbing sensation to my core, and the hunger to be full of Damian once more mingled with the pain of my injuries.
“Eh, not too bad.” Dr. Clifton popped his head up. “Let’s get this cleaned up a bit and then we’ll see if you need stitches here as well.”
After he had cleaned the tiny bits of glass out of my feet, he determined that I’d just need to stay off my feet for a few days, nothing too extended. He rolled back up to my hands.
“Can you feel this?” He poked my hand in a few places with a metal instrument.
I shook my head no.
“Good.” He quickly went to work, suturing up the deep laceration in my left hand. After he had stitched me up, he bandaged my hands. I sat there numbly. I had cried all the tears I had to cry, and now I was just ready to sleep.
My eyes felt heavy as Damian scooped me up, carrying me back to the car.
I could hear the muffled voices of Damian and Dr. Clifton as my eyes closed and I fought to stay awake. Against the warmth of Damian’s chest, I felt myself quickly and easily slipping into a fuzzy sleep.
* * *
When I awoke,I peeled my eyes open groggily. I was in a room I didn’t recognize. I groaned, sitting up and stared around the room. I breathed in a familiar earthy smell, realizing I was likely in Damian’s bedroom. The afternoon sun filtered through the slit in the curtains, and I searched for a clock, wondering what time it was. The clock on the nightstand read three pm.
Holy Shit. I slept the day away. The event.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, suddenly seeing my gauze wrapped feet. I looked at my hands, also wrapped in gauze, and then on my left wrist I noticed a very familiar diamond tennis bracelet.
My mouth dropped open.
How did he…
I wobbled into the adjacent bathroom and caught sight of myself in the mirror. I was in one of Damian’s giant white T-shirts. It was like a nightgown on me. I suddenly realized how thirsty I was and stuck my face under the faucet and took a long drink of water.
After taking the longest pee of my life, I snooped through Damian’s bathroom drawers, curious about what I might find in them. Everything was neatly displayed. There wasn’t much to find, a toothbrush, a razor, some hair product, some cologne.
I pulled the cologne out and struggled with my gauze wrapped hand to spritz myself. It was definitely his scent, but it was missing something, probably the smell of his warm, earthy skin.
I stared at my hands and feet and wondered how the hell I was supposed to take a shower like this. I looked around the room, and there was no sign of my bloody clothes from yesterday, and we hadn’t brought my purse with me. I wobbled over to the bedroom door and cracked it open, listening.
“Meow.” Potato darted through the door, immediately rubbing himself on my legs and purring.
“Potato.” I gushed, trying my best to scoop him up with my half usable hands. I poked my head out of the bedroom door.
“Good Afternoon Ms. Easton.” A voice startled me from the other direction..
I screamed in surprise, prompting Potato to claw his way over my shoulder and quickly dart under the bed.
“My apologies Ms. Easton. I didn’t mean to startle you.” A middle-aged woman with perfectly slicked back hair stood in front of me. “How are you feeling?”
“Is this– am I–”
“I’ll let Mr. West know you’re awake. He should be here shortly.”
I nodded, not sure what to say.
