me back down to earth. “The shard that caused this was a half-inch thick.”
I nod, but not because I remember. I don’t really remember much from that night other than our embarrassing ambulance interactions.
“It cut straight through all of your muscle and nearly severed your femoral artery completely.” His finger has stopped moving and rests about two inches above my knee. “Trav and I had just left the hospital after responding to another call and were there when it all happened.”
“I’m glad you were,” I say, but it’s not enough.
“Maggie, you can bleed out in less than three minutes from the type of injury you sustained.” His eyes drop from mine and he begins tracing up my leg again. The way his finger feels on my skin pulls up goose bumps all over my entire body, not just the area he touches anymore. Every part of me is affected by him now.
I blow out a breath and try to quietly refill my lungs without letting him know how incredibly difficult he’s making this. How hard he’s making it for me to focus on doing something that I’ve spent the rest of my existence doing instinctually. Feeling Ran’s touch makes it as though I have to retrain my body on how to function like it normally should. Everything else has gone haywire.
“It takes a while for that muscle to not only heal, but to regain its strength.” I look down at my scar, seeing it snake across my leg and seeing Ran’s fingers delicately trail along the once-torn ridge of flesh. “That’s why it gives out on you. Because it’s not as strong as it once was. But you’d be amazed how we can heal, Maggie.” I feel Ran’s palm press completely onto my leg and feel his fingers coil onto my inner thigh where the scar winds on my skin, touching me where no one other than Brian has. It shocks me, but I don’t allow my eyes to falter, though my breathing betrays me. “We have an incredible capacity to come back from trauma. To heal from the wounds that we sustain.”
I’ve never heard any doctor or paramedic describe an injury the way Ran does, and I know he’s not just referring to my leg. And then the reality of what he’s doing hits me.
I yank my shorts down over my leg and Ran draws his hand back swiftly. “Do not use my accident as a way to lecture me on being broken.” I taste the sickening sushi from yesterday’s interrogation on my tongue.
Ran’s eyes emit a hurt that equals a backhand across his face. In fact, that might have been nicer. To slap him and pretend that I was mad because he was attempting to make a move. But he and I both know that’s not what he was trying to do.
I swallow the lump that has swelled in my throat. “I don’t need you to talk to me about trauma and healing. I’m just fine.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “And my leg is just fine, if you actually had any real concern over it to begin with.”
“Don’t do this, Maggie.” Ran pulls his hands through his hair and keeps them wrapped around the roots like he’s going to tug them out. “I do care about your leg. I care about all of you. Can’t you see that?”
“Honestly Ran, it seems like all you care about is teaching me some life lesson on forgiveness and second chances. I’m beginning to think you’re taking your job as a ‘healer’ a little too far.” I tear off his basketball shorts, ball them up and chuck them at him, grateful for the long sweater I’d chosen this morning, because it falls down my legs and keeps some modesty in my act. I yank my jeans on and am frustrated when I stumble slightly, wishing to make my scene as dramatic as possible, but I’m sure I look ridiculous.
“This is not my idea of a girl ripping her clothes off for me.” Ran tosses the discarded shorts onto his bed.
“You’re not my idea of much, either Ran,” I spit.
“First,” he says, calm and composed, “I’m not even sure what that means. And second, you said my job as a ‘healer.’ That’s not what we do. We don’t heal, we sustain. We make sure things don’t escalate and we patch things up until the real healing can take place later down the road.”
“I don’t care what you