Page 16 of Trustfall

I open the door slowly so as not to make any noise and slip out. I fill up the watering can with the hose on the side of the house closest to Luke's, bending at a ninety-degree angle with my ass up in the air. Then, I shuffle across the grass to water the plants and flowers in our garden. I crouch down, pretending to inspect the petals on some flowers—not that I know what I'm doing; this is Allie's territory. I sneak a glance, and sure enough, Luke is staring at me, his tool paused mid-air near the front tire of his bike. I flash him a sweet smile and a friendly wave. He raises his hand, but instead of waving, he just holds it mid-air for a few awkward seconds.

When he finally lowers his hand and goes back to work, I shift from crouching to kneeling. Then, I get on all fours and pretend to dig into the dirt, making my hips sway back and forth. I hear a low masculine groan come from Luke’s direction, immediately followed by a stream of curses. I jerk my head up to see him clutching his forearm, his face contorted in pain.

Oh, shit.

Without thinking, I rush over to him, dirt still clinging to my palms and falling off my knees. He’s holding his arm as blood gushes down and drips onto the ground.

“Pressure,” I call out. “You have to hold pressure on it.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he yells.

“Okay, okay. Let me see it.” I gently pull the hand holding onto his arm back, and blood starts to flow out faster.

Luke hisses. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay. Just—” I look around for something to hold pressure with, but he’s not wearing a shirt, and I’m not wearing anything underneath mine. I look down and notice a slight rip at the bottom of my shirt. I tear it until I have a big enough scrap, then wrap it around Luke’s arm and hold pressure with the palm of my hand.

“Can you walk with me over to the steps?”

He nods.

We walk over with my hand still attached to him and sit on the steps in silence for a few minutes, but it’s not uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe he’s in too much pain to even care, but it doesn’t feel awkward to be sitting next to him, touching, both of us in various states of undress.

“I’m going to move my hand and check on the wound again, okay?” I ask after about five minutes of holding pressure. He nods again.

I move my hand with the piece of shirt, and thankfully, the blood flow has slowed. But he has a pretty nasty gash, about four inches long.

“What happened?”

“My wrench slipped,” he mutters.

“Well, the bleeding has slowed down, so that’s good, but it looks like you’re going to need stitches. I can drive you to the ER if you w?—”

“No,” he cuts in. “I don’t do hospitals.” He says it firmly, like there is zero room for negotiation.

“Okay…we could try urgent care, but the wait there is actually sometimes longer and?—”

“Can’t you just do it?” He cuts me off again, and his tone sounds slightly panicked.

“Me?”

“Yeah. You’re a nurse. No?”

“Yes, but I don’t place sutures.”

“But you’ve seen it done, right? I’m sure you can wing it.”

“You want me towingsewing your skin back together?”

“Listen, Emory. I don’t like hospitals, medical buildings, doctors’ offices…you get the picture.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. Who knew Luke was so high-maintenance? “Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the supplies.”

“Can you get them?” He looks up at me, his blue eyes pleading. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. I don’t think I have it in me to say no. He looks like a little boy who is frightened to go to the doctor’s office. It’s kind of cute. But also a little sad. I can’t help but wonder what happened to make him hate hospitals so much. Most likely, he or a relative had an extended stay in a hospital. That’s what usually causes people to have an aversion to them.

I know this is crazy. I’m risking my job, not to mention my nursing license if I do it. But this is Luke. If the roles were reversed, he would do it for me without any hesitation. Not because it’s me, but because that’s just the type of man he is. If someone needs help, he helps. No questions asked. He’s certainly gotten Nate out of a bind or two in the past. He deserves someone to take care of him. I give myself five more seconds to talk myself out of it before making the decision.

“Okay, fine. I’ll do it. But I need you to go into your house and keep holding pressure until I get back. Sit on the couch and donotmove. Understand?”

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