texts too far these past few days, but he knew that wasn’t why she looked a little frightened. He hated the idea of her being scared at all, much less of him, but he knew how strongly she disliked violence, and there was no hiding what he’d done. At least she wasn’t walking out the door.
He drew his shoulders back, trying to smile, but sadness and anger gnawed at him. He tried to mask those feelings with humor even though he knew it was a losing battle, and said, “Hey, heartbreaker. What brings you to this side of town?”
“I was talking to Mads about doing some puppeteering at LOCAL.” She studied his face, and then her gaze moved down his arms to the bloody gash in his leg. She lifted worried eyes to his and said, “Are you okay?”
That familiar magnetic pull tugged at him, the need to be near her, to let her presence calm him. But he was in too dark of a mood to act casual. He needed to get the hell out of there before he scared her even more. “I’m fine.”
“You should probably clean that gash in your leg.”
“I’ll get around to it.” He picked up his beer, wishing he could drink the darkness away, but the thought of the dogs they’d rescued tonight, and the ones they couldn’t, turned his stomach. He set the beer back down, swallowing a curse.
“Don’t be a pain. You’ll get an infection.” She dropped an enormous leather bag on the bar and rifled through it. “I’m afraid to ask what the other guys look like.”
“Fuck the other guys. They’re not the ones who matter.”
“Justin…” She looked at him with disbelief as she withdrew a first aid kit from her bag and opened it. Turning her attention to the kit, she found a small packet of antiseptic wipes and tore it open. Her eyes shot up to his. “I don’t even know who you are right now,” she said as she began cleaning the cut on his leg.
“Ow. Holy hell, blondie.”
“Don’t be a baby. If you can fight, you can take a little antiseptic.” She continued cleaning his wound and said, “I don’t know what you thugs fought about, but every life matters, and I don’t believe for a second that you think otherwise.” She set the dirty wipe on the bar and snagged a new one, then went back to cleaning his cut.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Despite pretending that I don’t notice certain things about you, you’re always there when I, or anyone else, needs you. The least I can do is be here for you to make sure you don’t get an infection. You’re all tough now, but you’ll probably cry like a baby when your cut gets infected.” She glanced at him, and the edges of her lips curved up in a sweet half smile, easing some of his tension. She set down the soiled wipe and used her hand to fan the damp area on his leg dry.
He caught her hand in his and said, “Pretending, huh?”
With a roll of her eyes, she pulled her hand free. “How can you flirt at a time like this?” She picked up an individually sealed packet of antibiotic ointment from the first aid kit and tried to rip it open. She tugged and twisted the packet, her eyes narrowing determinedly.
He took the packet from her and tore it open with his teeth. He handed it back to her and said, “Because it’s easier than dealing with the shit in my head.”
“Then talk to me. Why did you guys get into a fight?”
He clenched his jaw, not wanting to bring something so bleak into her beautiful world.
“Come on, Justin. Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than the ideas floating around in my head.” She began applying the ointment to his wound, her eyes flicking up to his, and said, “Spill it, Wicked.”
He watched her carefully cover the ointment with a bandage. “We went with the police to break up a dogfighting ring, and things got ugly.”
“Dogfighting ring?” The shock in her eyes was unmistakable. She looked at his arms and said, “Are those scratches from the dogs?”
He nodded. “And from the fencing on the property.”
“I hope you have a current tetanus shot. What about your leg? Is that from the dogs or the fence? And that bruise on your face?”
He gritted his teeth, hating to have to admit the rest of the truth, which she wouldn’t like, but he