Page 49 of Whispers in the Dark
“No, you’re not. Someone obviously stabbed you.” I shake my head, examining the damage as I try to think clearly. This is so much blood. Too much blood. He could have died…
“Stop!”
My eyes find his…
His knees drop to the grass…
My arms slip around him…
His heart beats as fast as mine…
I clear my throat, fighting the tremble that wants to take over my body as I focus on his injury. “I need to clean this.”
His brows furrow, and he shakes his head, but I don’t take no for an answer. Grabbing his hand, I lead him to the kitchen, stopping beside the sink. Standing so close to his bare sculpted torso sends a wave of heat to my core, but I quickly shake off the feeling.This isn’t the time.
I carefully begin to unwrap the wound. Assessing it up close, I notice that for the most part, the bleeding has stopped, so applying pressure at this point would be useless. “Can you lean over the sink?” He does so without a fuss, watching as I maneuver the spray nozzle so the water runs over the length of his arm, flushing out any dirt or debris. I squirt a dollop of soap into my hand and rub it around the area, making sure not to get it too close to the actual cut. After I’m satisfied, I grab thekitchen towel and pat the area dry. “You should probably get this stitched up by Dr. Rose. I don’t think a bandage will be enough.”
He nods and takes a step toward a cabinet as I wash my hands. Reaching inside, he retrieves a suture kit and tosses it to me. I catch it against my chest, and the moment I realize why he just gave this to me, my eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”
I am.
I shake my head. “No way. I’ve never stitched someone up before.”
There’s a first for everything.
My lips part. “But…what if I mess up?”
He shrugs.
I swallow hard. “You won’t be mad if I do this wrong?”
He reaches out, gripping my chin. “Trust,” he says, sending all of my worries and doubts to the back of my mind.
He trusts me with this.
I curl in my bottom lip and nod. “Okay. I can try.” I look around him. “But I need you to sit so I have a better angle.”
He steps away and walks toward the chair closest to the fire, the one I was just sitting in.
I stand before him with a slight shake in my fingers, but take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing mind. “I can do this,” I say softly. Opening the kit, I retrieve the needle and thread, then place the thread in the needle’s loop. I stare down at his wound, having no idea how to begin this. “So, I’m just supposed to stab this through your skin and start sewing like I’m working on the hem of my pants?”
One side of his lips lifts in amusement as he nods.
“You have a lot of faith in someone who barely passed home economics.” Taking one last steady breath, I say, “Here goes nothing.” I stab the tip of the needle through his skin, trying not to think about how weird this feels as I quickly work my way to the end of the wound, one suture at a time. Mauro’s hand gripsmy hip, his fingers curling into me as his head rests against the back of the chair, closing his eyes. “I’m almost done,” I tell him as I stitch across one final row and then gently tighten it before tying a knot. A breath of relief leaves me as I look down at my work. Not too bad for my first time.
I grab the kit and pull out the antibiotic ointment, putting a dime-sized amount on the tip of my finger. Carefully, I glide it over the area. He stiffens the slightest bit.
“Does it hurt?”
He shakes his head.
“You don’t have to put on a brave face for me.” I let the pads of my fingers skim across his flesh, taking my time as I trace his muscular arm. I’m lost in thought when I feel his heated gaze on me. Glancing up, his eyes meet mine, locking me into place. “I need to wrap a bandage around it,” I say softly.
Neither of us moves.
The only sound I hear is my beating heart.
The one telling me not to feel anything for this man, as it will only end in heartbreak.
