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Travis was damn glad he was sitting, even gladder he was in no shape to be on his feet, and even gladder thanthathe was too drained to get aroused, given the circumstances.
“Fine,” she muttered, more to herself than him. “We’ll cut it off.”
Travis had been listening to the rhythm and cadence of her husky voice—but not exactlyhearingher words. Thecut-it-offcomment had him jerking upright, which immediately sent pain crashing through him. He bit back on the curses only out of the instinct developed over the years.
Showing a weakness could lead to getting killed. Apathetic as he was about life in general most days, he owed his family better than to get his ass murdered on the other side of the globe doing God only knows what, so he generally did try to avoid it.
But he couldn’t hide the sweat that broke out on his forehead in response to his abrupt movement, or the way his head started spinning.
Isabel had turned away as she muttered to herself and now she was facing him again, her mouth in a hard, flat line. Light reflected off the scissors she held in her hand.
Bracing one hand on the couch, he eyed the scissors, then slanted a look up at her. She didn’tlooklike she’d gone and developed some bloodthirsty edge over the years.
“What are you talking about cutting off?” he asked warily.
Her brows rose, a puzzled look on her face. Then, slowly, a smile curved her lips, humor dancing in her eyes. “Oh, honey. That ship has sailed. Those days are long, long past.”
She started forward.
He didn’t relax as he darted another look at the scissors. “What ship are we talking about? And you haven’t answered me.”
“Your shirt,” she said tartly. “You’re bleeding.”
“I can deal with it.” It finally dawned on him that she’d come over tohelphim. He couldn’t quite believe it, not from her. Not after what he’d done.
She sat on the solid, square block that served as a coffee table and faced him, her gaze direct. “I’m not leaving until we get that cleaned up. Quit being a baby.”
“Why are you helping me?” he asked, the words coming out like they had to be dragged from his tight throat. “You don’t owe me shit.”
“That sounds like something my father would say,” she fired back at him, her green eyes flashing. “You don’t do a kindness because it’s something youoweanother. You do it because it’s the right thing to do.”
The light in her eyes almost knocked the breath out of him—what little he still had.
“There was a time when I wouldn’t have had to point that out to you,” she continued, a deep furrow between her brows. “There was a time when you were one of the kindest people I knew.”
Cheeks flaming, he looked away. “Times change, Iz. People change.I’vechanged.”
“Not that much.” The couch cushions gave way beneath her as she moved to sit closer, her face only inches from his. “You had no reason other than kindness to go out there and help my kids.”
His throat tightened.
He was so pathetically grateful when she lowered her head, although panic stirred as she reached for the hem of his shirt.
“Don’t,” he whispered, grabbing her wrist. The last thing he needed was for her to see the mapwork of scars that now marked his body. It had been hard enough to explain those to his twin—not to mention getting Trey to swear he’d keep his trap shut. All Isabel would have to do to make him fold was look at him the right way.
Kind of like she was doing now, lambent eyes under the fringe of her lashes as she studied him.
Then she jerked her wrist away. “Stop being ababy.”
This time, when she went to cut his shirt, he set his jaw and stared straight ahead, because what the fuck else was he going to do? She’d already shown she wasn’t going to listen and there was no way he’d risk so much as hurting her feelings by walking out of the room and throwing her kindness in her face.
At the sound of her harsh inhalation, he closed his eyes and dropped his head onto the back of the couch.
Fuck. Why had he even gotten out of bed today?
