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Luke’s footsteps tread behind me.
Jake glances over my shoulder and then shakes his head. “It’s fine. I just cut my hand.”
“You’re covered in mud,” I say.
“Gee, thanks. I wasn’t aware.” His tone is dry.
“Jake.” I put on my big-sister voice, but it has little effect.
“Can we talk about this inside? I need to get cleaned up and see if this thing needs stitches.”
I resist the urge to growl at him. “Fine. Let’s go check out your hand. Jake, this is Luke Fletcher.” I follow Jake up the porch steps, gesturing to Luke behind me.
Jake dips his head in Luke’s direction. “Hey, man.”
“Nice to meet you,” Luke replies, following us into the house. “I can take a look at that cut if you want. Do you have a first-aid kit?”
We walk inside and then through the front office.
“I think there’s one in the kitchen,” Jake says.
An interior door leads us into the main part of the house and through the open living area. Off to one side, the staircase leads up to the bedrooms. We pass by the giant dining table on our way to the kitchen.
New flooring stretches into these rooms, and the kitchen has new granite counters and gleaming white cabinets. I barely recognize it. At least in the living room, the ancient wood paneling still covers the walls. Even though it’s old and dated, it’s familiar and somehow comforting.
Jake moves to the sink, unwinding the wrapping around his hand.
I follow right behind him, peering over his shoulder.
He twists his head to scowl at me. “Will you stop hovering and grab the first-aid kit? I think Archer put it in the cupboard over the fridge.”
I huff but turn around to comply.
Before I can take more than a single step, Luke holds up a hand. “I can get it. You’d probably have to climb up on the counters to reach.”
“Thank you.” I spin around to Jake and move to his side. “Let Luke look at it, he’s a doctor.”
Jake frowns down at the sink. “I thought you said he was a musician.”
“I am a man of many talents.” Luke sets the first-aid kit on the counter and pops it open, assessing the contents. He nods at Jake. “Run that bad boy under some warm water to clear off the blood and I can assess how deep the laceration is. What did you cut it on?”
Jake flicks on the sink and slides his hand under the water, washing off the blood, some of which has dried to a dark brown. He hisses quietly. “An old tractor.”
“When did you last have a tetanus shot?”
“I’m not sure. I think I was in high school. Maybe a senior?”
Luke slides on a pair of rubber gloves. “They’re good for years.”
“Then I’m golden.” Jake turns off the faucet.
Luke holds out a hand. “May I?”
Jake nods and gives him his hand.
Luke examines the wound, probing it gently with one of his glove-covered fingers. “Have you been applying pressure?”
“Yes.”
