Page 111 of Twisted Shadows
“Hey.” Grayson flipped back around to face him, probably not-accidentally hiding the bloodstains again. “You’re a good empath, that’s the kind of empath you are.”
“But other empaths can help with pain, can be therapists, can work in the ER—”
“Empaths are allowed to be different from each other, just like everyone else. They can have different ways of showing their—” Grayson cleared his throat “—goddamn fucking empathy.”
Reece groaned, covering his face and finding his skin clammy with sweat under his bare hand.
“Care Bear, it’s fine.”
“Itisn’t,” Reece said into his hand.
“I told you, your empathy is overwhelmingly strong,” Grayson said. “It makes the anxiety worse. It’s not your fault.”
“And now you’re injured but having to comfortme.”
“I’m just gonna hop in the backseat for a moment.” He could hear Grayson opening the glove box. “I got the first aid kit; I can take care of this cut and change my shirt so you don’t have to see the blood. It’ll take five minutes, tops.”
Reece sat on his knees, miserably chewing on the tip of his thumb as he watched Grayson climb out of the passenger door and get in the truck’s backseat, crawling across the long bench and into the more spacious area behind Reece’s seat, which was admittedly much farther forward than the passenger seat Grayson had been sitting in.
He was definitely moving gingerly. How deep was he cut? He wasn’t going to be able to adequately clean and bandage a wound on his back. It could get infected and Grayson would be in even more pain and it would be all Reece’s fault for not having the goddam fucking empathy to be there the way Grayson needed him.
He pulled his thumb away from his teeth.
No. No, fuck that.
“Where’re you going?” he heard Grayson ask, as Reece left the engine running for heat, and opened his door and jumped down from the driver’s side.
Reece slammed the driver’s door and walked around to the passenger side, then opened the backseat door. “I’m coming to help you.”
Grayson had already stripped off his sweater and the T-shirt he’d had underneath. He still had them in hand, holding them against his left shoulder and that side of his bare chest in an awkward way.
Reece made a spinning motion with his hand. “Turn around.”
“Reece—”
“Not even you can properly bandage up your own back,” Reece said stubbornly. He took a breath. “I can do this.”
He paused.
Grayson eyed him. “No flinch?”
“No lie.” Reece’s own chest immediately felt lighter. “I can do this, I really believe I can do this, I can help you,” he said, relief flooding him. “Turn around.”
Grayson’s gaze lingered for a moment. Then he did turn around.
The late afternoon light through the truck’s many windows was soft against Grayson’s skin, lighting the jagged, bloody line that crossed his right shoulder blade. It was a mix of brown where the blood had dried and bright red where it still seeped from a wound. Reece took a breath, held it, and then blew it out. His blood pressure was high, but his stomach wasn’t roiling and his head felt normal. He wasn’t going to throw up or pass out.
“Is it bad?” Grayson asked.
“It’s notgood,” said Reece. “But maybe if we bandage it up, you won’t need stitches or anything.” He reached out automatically, then paused at the sight of his own bare fingers. “I wish I could touch you,” he said quietly. “I wish I could take your pain away.”
Grayson glanced over his shoulder. “You’re gonna handle this with a first aid kit instead of empathy. That’s still gonna help.”
“I hope so.” Reece got the kit out of the bag, grabbing disinfecting wipes, antiseptic, and the biggest bandages. Then he pulled his gloves out of his own new backpack, because he wasn’t going to be able to help Grayson if he couldn’t touch him. “Relax your shoulders if you can.”
Grayson finally lowered his hands to his lap, still holding his sweater.
Reece slipped his gloves on. His hands were unsteady as he tore open the packet for a wipe. “I know we have to do this part, but it’s going to hurt you more.”
