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Stalker.
I get to my feet and go over to him, “How are you feeling?”I don’t ask because I care. I ask because it’s my job as a physician.
“I’m not sure, I haven’t tried to move yet.”
“It’s going to take a while, the injuries are significant but they’ll heal,” I check his temperature with a digital thermometer. Looks like he’s stable—rest will cure most things.
Before I turn around, Chase takes my hand and stops me. I end up holding my breath at his touch. He stares at me for a long moment then slowly murmurs, “Thank you.”
“Mm,” I clear my throat. “Don’t thank me yet. It’s time to close the hole in your head.” I pull my hand away.
The spot in question is on his forehead, just by the left temple. It was likely this blow that left him unconscious. I’d already shaved and cleaned it last night to prepare for the suture.
“Hold still,” I apply some alcohol on a gauze and wipe it once more.
Chase grimaces and takes a breath through gritted teeth…but he’s not a crybaby…I’ve seen worse reactions.
I show him the needle and thread, “This is going to hurt.”
“Enjoy,” he shoots his brow, frowning with his eyes.
“Thanks,” I smile. “I will.”
I ignore Chase and get to work, but the way he’s staring at me, makes it hard to concentrate. Most people look away and think about something else to take themselves away from the pain.
But Chase…he’s staring at me in a very different way…and I’m not quite sure what it is.
I focus on my work, finish the stitch, tie it and snip the ends, “There. All done.”
“Thank you, Lara.”
This asshole is really doing an about-face with his attitude.
“How’s your jaw feeling? You should eat something. Can you handle solid food?”
“Solid food isn’t a problem. I’m starving actually.” He looks at the bedside clock, “Would you like to come to the diner with me? I’ll buy you lunch?”
When he tries to get out of bed, he grits his teeth and it’s evident he’s still in a lot of pain. I put a hand on him and push him back down, “I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere for a while.”
“I can’t stay here and starve, I need to get up.”
“It’s fine,”you idiot. “I went out and got food while you were asleep.”
“You did?” He gives me a hopeful raised brow.I swear…it’s like there’s no trace of asshole left!
“I did. The only things you’re going to worry about for the next seven days is brushing your teeth, going number one and two, and washing yourself with a cloth or a sponge. Other than that, you’ll be in bed, resting. Do you think you can manage that?”
He looks at me uncertainly.Damnit.
“Okay, why don’t you try getting up and going to the bathroom. I’ll wait here, you can talk to me through the door and we’ll see how far you get.” I amnotgiving him a bath!
“Alright. I’ll give it a try,” he begins sitting up.
“Remember now, small motions. Don’t do anything fast or you’ll tear your stitches. Just take it nice and easy.”
He grits his teeth and stands, even hunching, he’s a monster. I watch him take small steps and work his way to the adjoining bathroom. When he gets there, he turns to give me a reassuring look before stepping in and closing the door.
Gosh. This is more than I signed up for.
