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I study his knuckles. Blood soaks his shirt in the back. “You’re bleeding. The nail punctured you. Looks like a splinter too.”
“It’s just blood. It doesn’t matter. I’ve had worse. A lot worse.”
Still holding his hand, I say, “Come on. Let’s go get that cleaned up. Also, the dogs need some water. And I want to hear about the crown and the treasure hunt.”
“It’s all tall tales and nonsense.”
“You don’t really believe that?” I ask because his brothers seemed to have a change of heart.
He grunts.
“Well, I’m also curious about what you plan to do with the cottages, the Junk, considering we’re neighbors and all.”
“That’ll take a while. Even if I do go through with it.”
That’s what I’m hoping for.
Magnus
CHAPTER 12
Even though my shoulder and knuckles sting from the stupid self-inflicted wounds, holding Lally’s hand is like a hug. One I didn’t realize I’d been desperate for.
Her touch softens something inside me. Allows me to breathe easier. The stirring in my chest has turned to burning. I feel unexpectedly safe with her, like she’ll always know what to do. She’s the kind of woman to remain calm in a crisis, clearheaded.
It scares me.
That’s why, when we get to her house, I wash my hand and staunch the bleeding in her bathroom, also washing my face and then finding a towel she probably uses for the dogs because it’s not fluffy and white like the rest. However, it is clean because it smells wonderfully like her: sea breeze and coconut.
Meeting my gaze in the mirror, there’s something in my eyes I’ve never before seen.
What’s going on with you?
Boo barks from the other room.
Then it’s like I hear Sean’s voice in my head, he whispers three words, but I can’t quite hear them above his knowing laughing.
Door in glove?
That can’t be right.
But there was nothing funny about Lally falling through that screen. Had she gotten hurt, I’d never forgive myself. Instead, I acted a fool and punched the wall to the cottage. If that weren’t enough, I did it again and got myself stuck. But it had nothing to do with her and everything to do withemotionsI’m not sure what to do with, so I put them inmotion—sorry, wall.
Letting out a breath, I shake my head.
Reluctantly, I leave the bathroom. Not because I don’t want to be around Lally, but because I should leave and get the puncture on my back cleaned up.
Lally pours a tall glass of iced tea and offers it to me. “I also have lemonade, water, iced tea, coffee, if you’d prefer. Pick your poison.”
“Chip used to say that. His poison was Rum.” I take a sip. It’s sweet like Lally. “Thanks. I’d better go.”
“No, sit down. Shirt off.”
I stagger backward. “What?”
“I’m going to clean up your shoulder.”
Brow rumpling, I say, “You don’t have to.”
