Finding out had absolutely jumped to the top of my list.
Chapter Seven
JAMES
Closing in on five hours later, I had her back at the apartment with both of us in desperate need of sleep. The ER had been exhausting for her, but at least she'd been able to leave there with prognosis for a full recovery. She'd undergone a lot of tests to determine if there was any nerve damage, which would have necessitated immediate surgery to repair if the results had been classed at third-degree or above. Winter's injury was deemed second-degree, and would most likely recover slowly on its own.
Thank God, because she was right-handed.
Apparently, she'd sliced through the muscle that controlled movement of the thumb. She'd just barely nicked the sheath surrounding the medial nerve of her right hand. A close call, but not deep enough to sever the nerve, so she'd been able to receive layered stitches and antibiotics instead of surgery. Not surprisingly, the majority of her pain came from the superficial dermal burns to the inside of her fingers. We'd guessed that the hot pad she'd used to take the cookies from the oven had been wet on one side. As soon as the metal pan came in contact with the wet cloth, it had conducted searing steam straight onto the skin of her palm. No wonder she'd dropped everything and flailed her hand away. That she'd flailed it directly into the blade of a really sharp fucking knife? Goddamn unfortunate.
Still, watching her endure the endless probing into her open wound, the electric shocks, the shots, the scans, and the stitches hadn't been a walk in the park. Winter had a severe phobic reaction to the sight of blood and gore. So severe in fact, it had been really difficult for her to remain conscious throughout their procedures. I'd asked if they could give her something to calm her down, but they'd needed her awake to respond to the nerve-function testing. It had felt like an endless cycle of trauma for several tortuous hours: Winter withstanding the discomfort of whatever test they were conducting, and then her emotional breakdown as she had to mentally process each new thing, and was unable to manage much beyond lapsing in and out of awareness.
Watching her struggle had been fucking horrible.
The doctor, who looked to be barely of drinking age, seemed to know his job, at least. He'd assumed she was my girlfriend as he rattled off the instructions for wound care, prescription medications, and a follow-up appointment with her regular M.D and possibly an orthopedic specialist. I never once entertained the idea of correcting him. She should be my girlfriend—she should be more than my girlfriend actually.
Nobody else would touch her while she was hurting, unless they were in possession of a Mass Gen ID badge.
It should be my job to comfort her.
She should be mine to protect.
She should just be mine.
Winter was asleep in my arms when I deposited her carefully onto her bed. God, how I wanted to climb in next to her and close my eyes too. I was fucking wrecked from this night—both emotionally and physically. I bent down and gently removed her shoes, deciding it wouldn't matter if she slept in her clothes. Some healing rest was what she needed more than anything else right now.
As I settled the comforter over her, I noticed the tight expression she wore, even while asleep. This night had been a grueling marathon, and I knew the very best thing I could do for Winter right now was leave her in peace. She should sleep for hours from the pain medication she'd been given. Whatever problems there were, we could deal with them in the morning. I set her phone on the bedside table and shot a quick text: Let me know when you wake up, and I'll come down. You were so brave last night. J
I glanced down to find her eyes wide open and watching me. "You're not leaving, are you?" So many times tonight I'd thought she'd been asleep when she hadn't been, as she'd done her best to bear through the whole nightmarish experience. Even in her exhausted state, there was residual panic. I could hear the fear, and it ripped into my heart like a red-hot blade.
"I thought you were out for the night, Win. It's two in the morning. Go back to sleep, babe," I said as gently as I could.
"But don't leave me." Her eyes filled with tears as she pleaded, reaching her good hand out to me before patting the side of the bed with the other bandaged one. "I won't be able to sleep if I'm alone. Please…"
She wants me to sleep in her bed—with her?
Fuck. Yes.
And just like that, I caved.
The whole thing was a no-contest situation, and again, shouldn't be a surprise. My sweet Winter was crying for me to stay. She needed my comfort so she could sleep. She begged me to get into her bed and sleep beside her.
But yeah, like I had even a shred of strength to resist by telling her no.
So, I kicked off my shoes and did what she asked of me.
I lifted the comforter and slid in beside her, careful of her bandaged hand. As I stretched out on my side facing her, I didn't say anything, because I couldn't form words. I was barely capable of believing where I was. I didn't know how I'd gotten here, but now I worried I wouldn't be able to step back like I should do when it was time for things to go back to how they'd been.
Back to normal.
Would tomorrow be normal?
You know it won't be.
I shouldn't be here, but I couldn't be anywhere else.
"Thank you, James," she said so softly it was almost inaudible, as she slid her body closer to mine, "for everything you do for me…all the time."