the universe that he’s already facing another way when I admit my pitiful economic status. “I couldn’t afford what I needed to buy. So, uh… thanks. And here.” I grab a paper bag and hand him his croissant. “You paid for breakfast, too. This might sting a little.”
Before he has a chance to speak, I work a little antiseptic onto sterilized wipes, and move them over the welts on his back.
“Ah!” he hisses and folds forward. “Fuck.”
“I’m sorry.” I reduce the pressure as I work over his injuries. “But despite the fact I kick you a lot, and almost crashed our car, and got you beaten up in a bar, I don’t actually want you to die. Which means this is necessary. You eat, I’ll work.”
“Then I get to pour the stinging water all over you?”
Snickering, I start picking through my pile of supplies in search of gauze. “I don’t have any open wounds. But thanks for the offer.”
“You split your knuckles.” He takes a noisy bite of his croissant and slumps forward. “It would be my pleasure to help you clean that up.”
“You’re mean, you know that?” I tear the packaging from a bandage. “I spent my whole life with Will overprotecting me. It’s like whiplash, because now I’ve met you, and I swear, sometimes you get this look in your eyes…”
“What kinda look?”
I snort. “Like you wanna clip me on the chin.”
“Oh yeah. Good spotting. I often wanna smack you on the chin,” he deadpans. “If you were a man, we’d have come to blows a thousand times already.”
“Lucky I’m a woman, then, huh?” I gently place a gauze pad on his skin. “I don’t want to get hit.”
“Lucky for me too.” He hisses when I hurt him. “If I wanted a male version of you, well… that would be Will. And that just doesn’t work for me. Thank god.”
“Thank god!” I repeat on a laugh. “I’ve never in my life been so happy to have a vagina. Alright.” I place a second gauze pad on his back, and check some of the smaller bruises. “I’m no doctor or anything, but at least they’re clean now.”
“Thanks.”
He tosses the last of his croissant into his mouth, then turns and pulls me down to sit on my butt. Grabbing the second bakery bag from our pile, he hands it to me, then takes my right hand and lays it open on his knee.
“Eat up,” he murmurs and grabs the antiseptic.
I hold my breath in anticipation, and scrunch my eyes closed when he turns the bottle upside down and soaks a little gauze.
When a minute passes, and he doesn’t move, my eyelids flutter open, only to reveal Jamie sitting inches in front of me, grinning kinda how he used to, back when we first met.
“What?” I ask in exasperation.
His eyes twinkle with fun. “You’re really pretty, even when you’re doing the pig nose because you’re scared of a little antiseptic.”
“First of all,” I scowl. “Describe my nose as piggish ever again, and I’ll cut you. Second, you may have reason to be mad at me, and helping me with sore knuckles is the perfect time for a little revenge that you can claim you took no pleasure in.”
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna enjoy the shit out of this.” He presses the wet gauze to my knuckles, and holds on tight when I buck against his hold.
“Ouch!” I toss my croissant down and slap at his hand. “Dammit, Jamie! That hurt.”
“Yeah, well, my face still hurts.”
“This is unhealthy!” I slap his arm over and over again. “Sneaky retribution is surely the foundations to an abusive relationship.”
“I wasn’t sneaky,” he counters. He works the gauze over my knuckles and grins. “I told you what I was doing, and I told you I would enjoy it. Also…” He peeks up at me from beneath his lashes. “I thought you left.” He swallows and goes back to work. “This morning, I woke up, and you were gone.”
“So you were pissed? That would explain the shouting.”
He shakes his head and keeps his gaze down. “Not pissed. I was hurt,” he murmurs. “Sad. I missed you already, and for a second there, I wondered if it would be another four years till I saw you again. The car keys were missing, so I assumed—”
“The car keys are over there.” I nod toward the TV, and the ring of keys beside it. Yes, I touched them before leaving, and yes, I considered taking the car. “The SUV is right