More Than Enough (Pelican Bay 4)

Sawyer's touch immediately softened and he said, "Sorry," though his voice was barely a whisper when he said it. Sawyer seemed to take his time as he cleaned up the wound at the base of my skull. I wasn't sure if I was in heaven or hell as I endured his gentle touch. By the time he moved so that he was sitting on the window seat in front of me, I was already experiencing withdrawal symptoms. I wanted his hands back on me. I wanted his eyes on my mouth and his body close enough that I could breathe in his intriguing scent.

"Even though you didn't lose consciousness, it wouldn't hurt for you to have a CAT scan. You need to go to the hospital anyway for stitches," Sawyer said. He rose and reached for his medical bag at the same time that he added, "I'll let Maddox know—"

Before I realized what I was doing, I grabbed Sawyer's wrist as he attempted to move past me. "No," I growled. I wasn't exactly sure what I was protesting more strongly to… the idea of going to the hospital or the realization that he was walking away from me.

When his eyes met mine, I commanded my brain to say, "No hospitals" instead of the words “Don’t go” which were hovering on the tip of my tongue.

"Jett," Sawyer began. The sound of my name on his lips was heaven. "The lacerations are too large for anything but stitches. You can't risk them getting infected."

"No," I repeated. This time it was about the idea of going to the hospital. I'd spent too many days in one hospital unit after another as doctors and nurses fought to save a life I had no clue how to live.

"Jett—"

I still had my hand around his wrist. His skin was warm and I found myself clinging to that more than anything else. I knew he was right about the stitches because I could still feel the hated blood trickling down the back of my neck. When he said my name yet again, I shook my head, then looked him dead in the eye and said, "You do it."

CHAPTER THREE

SAWYER

His hand on my wrist grounded me. It probably shouldn't have, but it did. Of course, I shouldn't have needed to be grounded. But Marcus's phone calls had shattered my resilience to get through my examination of Jett. Even now, I could hear the faint vibrations of my phone indicating that I was receiving either calls or texts, one after another. Although my stomach roiled as I considered all the threats and accusations Marcus was spewing at me through my phone, I also felt an odd sense of relief that I could only attribute to the strong fingers wrapped around my wrist.

I dropped my eyes to where Jett was holding on to me. His skin was many shades darker than mine and the contrast did crazy things to my belly. And I could feel strength in his touch even though he was being surprisingly gentle. A nearly painful sense of longing went through me as I considered what it would be like for him to wrap his body around mine and hold me with that quiet strength.

My brain chose that moment to remind me that I’d had those same thoughts about another man. A man I'd been certain would be my savior but had turned out to be my own personal version of hell.

I pulled my hand free of Jett's hold. My eyes shifted just a bit so I could see that the wound on the back of his neck was still trickling blood and the gauze over his temple was turning a deep shade of red. I instantly felt guilty because the fact was that I was partially responsible for the injuries. As much as I wanted to escape his presence, I couldn't just leave him there. He clearly had a problem with hospitals, which wasn't unusual considering he’d probably spent a decent amount of time in them.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

Something in Jett's expression shifted and I sensed an emotional wall being put up between us once again. That should've made me happy but left me with a strange sense of loss instead.

Jett jerked his head once in agreement and then sat stiffly as he stared straight ahead. I knelt down next to him and began going through my bag to look for the supplies I needed. Once I had everything set up on a small side table, I stepped in front of Jett's wheelchair so he could see me. "Let's do this on the bed," I said.

Jett's eyes widened a bit as I mentally repeated the words back to myself. I shook my head quickly and said, "I mean, not on the bed, by the bed. I'll be on the bed, but you won't. I mean, if you want to be you can; I can't stop you, but we don't need to both be on the bed. Actually, we probably both shouldn't be on the bed because we just… shouldn't," I blurted.