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“Nothing. I was just being clumsy. I’m prone to falling into pools and slipping in rotten apples, you know,” I reminded her with a smile, which fell off my face slowly as Bex ignored my joke. Her eyes finally caught on the finger I had gripped in my opposite fist, and she tugged me closer before slowly coaxing my fingers to relax.
Our short exchange had caused the blood to pool in the palm of my uninjured hand, enough that it looked concerning even though I knew it was just a surface wound.
“It’s fine, really,” I tried to reassure everyone, their eyes having drifted over as Bex inspected the finger now dripping blood steadily onto the floor. “The wound is being dramatic, like me.”
Bex didn’t take the bait, poking at the wound for a moment, jaw tightening when she caught my wince.
“Doesn’t need stitches,” she announced, grabbing a second napkin Ames offered after I bled through the first. She wrapped it around the cut, keeping a hold on it and applying pressure tight enough that I felt my heartbeat in the tip of my finger.
Dev stepped closer, worry written across his face as he tried to inch toward me, but Bex quickly took a step to the side, cutting him off. Dev’s eyes flicked between Bex’s grip on my finger to my wide eyes, then back across the island to catch Alex’s gaze.
Dev smiled wide, stepping slightly to the side so he could meet my eyes. “You want me to take over, Wrennie?”
Before I could open my mouth, Bex gritted out a terse, “I’ll take care of it,” which just made Dev’s smile grow wider.
“Great, then I’ll get back to kicking your asses.” He waved us off, but something in his voice or smug smile caused Bex to tighten her grip on my finger for a moment before pulling us out into the backyard.
“Let’s go,” Bex bit out as she pulled me back toward the guest house, something in her voice suddenly brittle and angry. Within a minute, she unlocked the front door and pulled me through Ames’s studio, through Bex’s bedroom, and into her bathroom, yanking me a little too hard and causing an additional twinge of pain to shoot through my fingers. I swallowed my whimper, and Bex dropped my hand as she started to rifle through some of the first aid items she had stuffed into a drawer.
I hopped onto the counter, keeping a hold on the napkin. The bleeding had slowed enough that blood hadn’t seeped through the fabric, but Bex didn’t seem to care, slamming a drawer closed so hard I flinched.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered as she moved closer with an antiseptic wipe and a butterfly bandage. I focused on her hands so I didn’t have to meet her eyes, which I knew would be narrowed in some level of anger. Dread settled in my gut at the thought that a dumb mistake had thrown away all our progress.
After the Apple Incident and making the pie together - rather, Bex making the pie herself - Bex had kept to her promise. The past couple days, we’d continued to spend most of our time together, especially now that I’d stopped begging Dev and Ames to spend time with me in poorly-veiled attempts at getting away from Bex. We ate meals together, talked more amicably, and took turns choosing Spotify playlists driving to and from the shop, though she still refused to let me behind the wheel of my own car.
I couldn’t help imagining going back to the silent awkwardness that followed our fight over the pancakes, and my chin trembled a bit at the thought.
Bex sighed, grabbing my chin and tilting my head back until I met her eyes. “I’m not mad atyou, Wren.” But her eyes were still angry, eyebrows drawn and jaw tight, her voice lacking enough resolve to convince me.
“Okay,” I muttered as I jerked my chin out of her grip, focusing on my knees, which were boxed around Bex’s thighs as she stood at the bathroom counter.
Letting out an annoyed huff, Bex focused back on my hand, pulling my finger up close to her face and examining the cut as she unwrapped the napkin. She ran some cool water over the wound, prodding at the edges of the cut gently as she inspected it, but the slight sting of pain wasn’t enough to draw my eyes back up.
Suddenly, Bex’s thumb pressed down against the cut, the flare of hurt enough to have my eyes shooting up to hers. I caught the taunt in her eyes, her expression similar to the one she had after she dropped me at the orchard, and I tensed for another jab or spike of pain. Instead, I watched as her tongue darted out, licking up the line of my finger and catching the bead of blood that formed from her earlier assault.
“Almost as sweet as your tears, little bird,” she winked, opening the alcohol wipe with her teeth and running it quickly across the cut. The sting barely registered, my mind still replaying the feeling of her tongue on my skin, and Bex finished wrapping my cut before I blinked my surprise away.
Unable to force my lips to form words, I silently followed behind her as we left the bathroom, walking through her bedroom and back out through Ames’s studio. Dusk had fallen while she tended to my injury, and the solar lights flicked on as we walked back to the house.
My skin felt too tight on my bones, lungs unable to fill unless I took gulps of air, and Bex’s pleased expression only served to throw me off further. I had gotten (somewhat) used to her games, the ones that involved pushing me into pools and dropping me onto rotten apples, but I couldn’t handle those that involved hercloseness.
I took a moment to fix my facial expression into something that looked less shocked, but I doubted it did much as I followed Bex back into the house.
Everyone turned back to look at us, pausing their pumpkin carving to ensure I was still in one piece and relatively dry and mess-free. I couldn’t blame their skeptical looks. Bex and I tended to end up in trouble when we were alone together, but this time all the turmoil was taking place under my skin.
“Bex fix you up?” Ames asked, worry on her face until I flashed my bandaged finger and a smile in response.
“Yes, how is Doctor Bex’s bedside manner?” Dev smiled as he smacked a kiss on the top of my head, laughing when Bex frowned at his joke.
“I’m alright,” I told them as I rubbed my hands together in excitement. “Ready to make that pumpkin my bitch.”
Dev and Alex let out laughs at the obvious vendetta I had formed against the squash, which I fully blamed for my injury. If the skin of the pumpkin hadn’t been so thick, I never would’ve cut myself trying to hack it open.
Determined to prove myself this time around, I stepped back toward my pumpkin. My bloodied knife had been replaced with a clean one, and I reached for it, only to have it snatched up by Bex’s long fingers.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” she shook her head, jerking the knife out of my reach when I lunged for it. “We don’t want any more injuries, do we?”
“You’re not my keeper, Bex,” I growled, feeling my nails bite into my palms as I clenched my fists.
