Page 32 of Under Rusted Stars

“Then it can wait until we get back from Dallas,” he says.

“We? You’re coming with me?” I ask. “I thought you said I had to ask you?”

“That was until someone shot the floor beside you,” he says. “You are staying with me.”

“Good,” I say with a smile. “Question… How do those cysts happen?”

“Trauma to the area can cause them. Sometimes it’s childbirth. Sometimes it's assault. Sometimes it’s just random,” he says. “Because we are so small around here, I made sure I was trained to handle basic gynecological needs that may arise. I can handle low-risk pregnancies, too. The more complicated stuff gets referred to another city.”

“So you would do it?” I ask.

“Do you want me to?” he asks. “I could get one of my girls to do it.”

“No, I’d rather someone I know, and I don’t trust Kate with a knife.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “There’s a bench in the shower. I can have you lie on it and check it if you want.”

“Is that not weird?” I ask.

“To make sure you are okay? No,” he says. “Do you want me to check you for everything, though?”

“Probably wouldn’t hurt,” I say with a sigh.

“Considering all of that, sex is off the table until further notice,” he says. “Where is your level of comfort?”

“I'm comfortable with everything, but Virginia the vagina cyst is a cock block… Literally, actually. She’s a big bitch.”

“Good to know,” he says with a smile. “Let’s get in.”

I focus on just undressing. When I am naked, I step into the shower and just close my eyes to enjoy the hot water for a moment. When Bodhi steps in behind me, I sit on the bench. I hiss in pain, so he helps ease me back to lie on the stone bench.

“Okay,” he says. “I just need you to have your feet flat on the bench, but let your knees fall apart.”

“This is so weird,” I groan.

“Would you rather drive three hours and sit in an ER for twelve hours?” he suggests.

“Fuck no,” I laugh and let my knees fall apart.

“Am I okay to start?” he asks me, and I could fucking cry. No one has ever asked me before touching me.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“If you need me to stop for any reason, tell me,” he says. “You’re going to feel me touch.”

He is gentle, but I still whimper in pain. “Ow,” I whine.

“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t think it’s infected, but sweetheart, that needs to be taken care of very soon. That has to be horribly painful. How long has it been growing?”

“Since about a week or two before Jason tried to kill me,” I say.

“It’s only ever on that side?”

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Okay. When we get back from Dallas, we can go to the clinic and take care of it,” he says. “It’ll be after hours, so it will just be us.”

“Good,” I sigh. “Thank you.”