Protecting Melissa (Holiday Cove 4)

“He is?” A bright smile washed over his worried face. Chase was rapidly becoming his hero.

“Yeah. So, I need you to stay here while I help him get us out to sea. Then you can come up and say hi, okay?”

Jackson looked disappointed but nodded. “Okay, Mom.” He sighed. I planted a kiss on his forehead, ruffled his hair, and then left the room. I had no idea how bad Chase’s injuries were, but I didn’t want Jackson seeing him battered and bloody. I also had a bazillion questions I needed answered. Most of which would be impossible for Chase to answer if Jackson was sitting three feet away, listening in on every word.

I hustled back up the stairs and went to the bridge where Chase was leaning over the controls, tapping at different monitors and gages. “Everything okay?” I asked, tamping down my previous frustration. I turned to peer over my shoulder to see that we’d made progress away from the shore.

“Yeah.” Chase looked over and saw the first aid kit clasped in my hands. “You got any painkillers in there?”

“Of course!” I popped the box open and in my haste, managed to spill some of the contents to the ground. I stooped over and retrieved everything, stuffing it back inside, before straightening and finding a packet with two pain tablets. “Here,” I tore the packet open and dropped the pills into his open hand. “I’ll go get some water.”

“Don’t bother,” Chase said. He dropped the pills into the back of his throat and swallowed. He stared out ahead and I fidgeted, shifting back and forth.

“What happened back there? With the explosion?”

Chase glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t worry about it, okay? We’ve got to focus on getting as far away from here as possible. That’s all that matters right now. Got it?”

His gruff tone riled me all over again. I planted my fists on my hips and leaned toward him. “No, I don’t got it, Chase. This is my life! My child’s life! I deserve to know what the hell is going on!”

He stared at me for another beat and then tore his eyes away and locked them on the dark waters ahead of us. The eyes that were usually so warm and entrancing were cold—like steel. Unfamiliar and jarring.

A thick tension settled in the air between us as I tried to find a way of demanding answers in a way he’d be forced to agree to. But I couldn’t think of anything. He wouldn’t respect whining. I’d already tried arguing. And cold silence appeared to be what he wanted, which ruled out the silent treatment.

Perfect.

The one man who made me feel like I wasn’t alone had now left.

I spun on my heel and stalked off, only to stop halfway back to the stairs, realizing that I was still holding the first aid kit in my hands. With a sigh, I pivoted again, and went back to the bridge. “At least let me see your leg,” I said, my tone firm.

Chase hit a few more buttons and then sighed. “Fine.”

He stood up from the chair and flicked on the overhead lighting. Without any warning or hesitation, he dropped his pants. I sucked in a breath, both at the sudden assault of memories from the last time he’d removed his clothing for me, but it sharpened at the sight of the large injury and the amount of blood coating his shin on his left leg.

“Chase—” I breathed. “What happened?”

I squatted down in front of him, focusing my eyes on his leg—and only his leg—to get a closer view of the cuts and gashes. “Let me get a bottle of water and some cloths. We’ve got to get this cleaned up before I can see the damage. Luckily, it looks like the blood is slowing, so the wounds are clotting on their own.”

I pushed off my heels and hurried from the room before he could argue with me further. I grabbed the supplies and slipped back in. He sat back on the chair and propped his leg up on the seat next to the captain’s chair. He grimaced as I started to clear the blood away with gentle swipes. When my hand stopped, he prompted me to continue. “Get it over with,” he growled.

I nodded and continued to clean, doing my best to go slow and carefully over the wounds. The cuts were shallow and I doubted any of them would require stitches. Mostly, they appeared to be scratches and shallow gashes. The entire time I worked on cleaning and bandaging the area, the questions in my mind got louder and louder, but I kept my mouth shut. Chase was in a surly mood and had already made it clear he wasn’t up for conversation. I resigned myself to trying again in the morning.