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“Nope,” she said simply. “Scars don’t bother me.”
“Let me get the bandage,” he replied and hesitated. “Do you mind if we wrap my ribs first before the tea? If I cough, it hurts like the dickens…”
“I don’t mind at all.”
“Thanks, Lena,” he said quietly and walked off – only to return a moment later with the binding all wadded up in a ball. She took it from him, shaking her head and smirking, as she carefully wound it back up neatly and looked at him.
“Shirt?”
He hesitated – and nodded, actually turning from her to remove it like he was shy or scared. That simple, silent movement surprised her. No matter what his scar looked like, she was determined not to react at all because she knew what it was like to lose confidence or be undermined – and couldn’t help but marvel at the intricate tattoos on his arm that were hidden under the fabric of his sleeves earlier in the day.
“All right,” she said quietly. “Upper ribs?”
“Yes.”
“Arms up, please.”
Jake put his arms up slowly and winced, hesitating as he moved his left one above his head. “It pulls and makes it ache.”
“You probably need to exercise it some – but I would recommend you ask Houghton if it’s safe since he is the medical guru here… and not me. Plus, you should ask him about the chopping wood thing.”
“I did,” Jake said as she started to wrap his rib cage methodically, walking around him with the bandages… and hesitated.
There before her was a brutalized man who was lucky to be alive. There was a circular scar along a massive raw reddish line that ran from his hip all the way to his armpit like a highway on a map. His entire side was mottled green and black from bruising as if he’d been in an MMA fight with a semi-truck, and the truck won – twice. Massive streaks of green lay under the skin, some almost the size of her fist or larger, marring the smooth, once-tanned expanse.
She looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and saw his jaw tighten.
“You are lucky to be standing here with me,” she breathed softly.
“Am I, Lena?” he replied gently, and there was a double meaning behind their words that neither denied as she stared at him… and nodded as he slowly put down his arms.
“You could have been killed.”
“I nearly was,” he began and paused before speaking again. “When I woke up, they told me that one of my ribs was broken so badly, it was angled toward my heart and less than an inch away. The surgeon secured it with a titanium plate and screw because it was barely hanging on and wouldn’t heal back right without it.”
“And your lung?”
“Destroyed,” he admitted. “Pierced a few times, and the lower lobe was in very bad condition.”
“I am so sorry that you had to go through that.”
“Me too. I don’t wish that on anyone.”
They stood there looking at each other when Lena realized she was still holding the wrap that was sagging now, and he’d relaxed his arms. She gestured, feeling a little embarrassed, and gave him a shy smile.
“I should do this.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Would it help?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I get sore sleeping and…”
“About that,” she started and grabbed his wrist, indicating that he should lift it while she began wrapping his chest again. “There is only one bed in the loft and…”
“Lena?”
“Yes?”
