Bullets & Bonfires

He props his sunglasses on his head and pulls a sparkling lure out of his backpack. He concentrates on rigging up the pole way more than seems necessary. Obviously trying to pretend our kiss never happened.

I’m tired of pretending with Liam.

“Liam. What was that?”

“What?” he mutters without looking up.

“Liam, look at me.” A trembling ball of want tumbles in my stomach while I wait for him to glance up.

And when he does, something that resembles regret flashes in his dark brown eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Wow. His apology shouldn’t hurt, but it does. It hits me in the ribs, crushing me.

“It’s fine,” I mumble, turning to stare out over the water.

After a few seconds, he casts the line and pushes the pole into my hands.

“Bree, what I meant was, I shouldn’t have kissed you. Taken advantage of you.”

“Taken advantage?” Doesn’t he realize how insulting that is? “Did it seem like I didn’t want to kiss you?”

My pole jerks down before he answers and I want to chuck the damn thing in the water and demand he answer my question.

“Fish on!” Liam cheers. “You got it?”

“Sure.” I put all my anger into reeling it in. This fish is a feisty one and puts up a good fight. “I’m a little scared to see what’s on the other end,” I joke.

He settles one of his big hands over mine, guiding me. “You got it,” he encourages.

When the fish is close enough, he splashes into the water’s edge and scoops it up with a net.

“Good size smallmouth bass,” he says. “Probably four or five pounds. Nice job.”

I lean over to get a better look while he works the hook out of the fish.

Thoroughly pissed-off with his current situation, the bass flips and flops, still fighting hard.

“Ow! Fuck!” Liam bellows, staggering backward a few feet.

“What happened?”

“Hook went through my finger. Shit that hurts.”

“Let me see.” I take a few steps closer.

Mistake. Blood pours through the wound, small rivers traveling down his hand. So much worse than I thought, considering how calm Liam is. “Can we pull it out?”

“No.” He sucks in a deep breath. “Treble hook. Barbs.” Each word comes out clipped and laced with pain.

“What are we going to do?” I ask, unable to hide the panic in my voice.

“First,” he says after taking a deep breath. “Cut him loose and put him in the water. Every time he flops around, it’s making it worse.”

Fingers shaking—hell, my whole body won’t stop trembling—I dig out a pair of mini-scissors from Liam’s backpack and snip the line.

“Now what?”

“Can you pack up our stuff?” he asks a whole lot calmer than I’m feeling.

“Yes.” I’m grabbing stuff before he’s even done with the question. Catching sight of the two DEC officers who’d interrupted us earlier, I call out to them. “Hey! Help!”

“Bree stop, what are you doing?”

“Getting help.”

“They’re not going to be able to do anything for me. Come on. Hand me the cooler.”

“You can’t carry—”

“My other hand is fine. Hurry up, this hurts like a bitch.”

He’s cradling his hand against his chest. My eyes zero in on the hook—lure still attached—sticking up obscenely while blood continues to drip down his finger. “Liam, it’s bad,” I whisper.

His mouth twitches into a quick smile. “I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong, miss?” one of the officers asks from the ledge above.

“He’s hurt. Hook through his middle finger.”

Liam’s right, the two officers are no help. One offers us a first-aid kit and recommends wrapping gauze around it to keep it clean.

Even I realize that gauze around the pointed hook will only make things worse.

Liam stares them down. “No, thanks. How far is the hospital from here?”

“Oh, you don’t want to go to the ER. You’ll be there all night,” the officer says. “There’s an urgent care center right over the Empire county line.”

Liam grinds his teeth and glances at me. “Yeah, I know it.”

At the truck, I turn and hold out my hand to Liam. “Keys.”

He has the nerve to look at me and then the truck. “I can drive, Bree. I’m fine.”

“Seriously?”

“I can drive with one hand.”

“No, Officer Caveman, you can’t. Hand them over.”

His mouth curls into a half-smirk. “They’re in my pocket.”

Carefully, I slide my hand into his side pocket.

“I can’t even enjoy this,” he says, making me laugh.

He directs me to the urgent care clinic.

“You know the place?”

“I’ve been there once or twice,” he mumbles.

It’s dusk by the time we arrive. Not many cars fill up the parking lot, but I still struggle to pull his big truck into one of the tight spaces.

“Good job,” he says when I finally straighten out. There’s no mocking in the words, but I stick my tongue out at him anyway.

“You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to,” he offers.

“Of course I’m not letting you go in by yourself.” I’m surprised he’d even suggest it.

He slides out of the truck and meets me on my side. “Okay, let’s get this done so we can grab dinner. I’m starving.”

“You’re awfully calm for a guy with a jagged piece of metal through his finger.”

“Trust me, it hurts. I’m trying not to dwell on it too much”

No one’s in the waiting room, and Liam saunters right up to the counter.

“I guess I don’t need to ask,” the receptionist says, greeting him with a sympathetic smile.

She fires off a round of questions. Liam answers everything calmly, while slipping an arm around my waist and drawing me closer.

He’s the one who’s hurt yet he’s trying to comfort me. Great.

“Hey, Linda, can you check if there’s an open room?” the receptionist asks.

Liam’s entire body stiffens. I can’t figure out why until I glance up at the pretty nurse standing in front of us.

Of all the urgent care clinics in the world—seriously, universe?

Because there’s no doubt in my mind this is Liam’s ex.

Especially when the receptionist hands him a clipboard full of forms to fill out. “I can do that for you, Liam. I still remember all your details,” she says with a flirty smile.

Unprofessional much?

Awkward, actually. The receptionist stares, her gaze darting between Linda and Liam.

“That’s okay. I’ve got it.” I snatch the clipboard off the counter and tug Liam over to one of the waiting room chairs by his uninjured hand.

“I take it that’s your ex?” I mutter as I start scribbling down his information.

He grunts out an affirmative sound.

I tap the pen against the clipboard a few times to get his attention, and he helps me fill in the few details I don’t know.

Linda returns and shows us into a room. “So besides the hook in the finger, how’ve you been?” she asks.

“Fine. You?”

Clearly I have no claim on Liam. The irrational side of me doesn’t see it that way, though.

Liam said she was older, but she doesn’t look it. She’s dainty. Almost doll-like. Idly I wonder if it makes her job harder. If people take her seriously.

“My friend, Bree.”

Hearing my name snaps me out of my fog and I raise an eyebrow at Liam.

“Oh, you’re Vince’s little sister. Right. I’ve heard all about you,” she says, instantly dismissing me and focusing her lovesick gaze on Liam.

“Uh,” I answer lamely.