Page 29 of Chasing After You
Did he sayamputate?
My eyes flash open to look at him, doing my best to avoid seeing my hand. “Are you fucking serious?”
Quinn’s mouth curls into an amused smile. “Sweetheart, I’m fucking with you. I don’t think you even need stitches, you should be fine with a little gauze and tape. It’s long, but not deep.”
I shake my head, accidentally looking at my hand, and I fall backward slightly to rest my back against the cabinets. “I’m not a sweetheart, and that is so not funny. How do you know?”
“I’ve spent enough time with athletic trainers over the years, I know what a superficial cut looks like. And I think you are a sweetheart—I bet if they cracked your chest open, they’d find a candy heart inside,” he says, and I chuckle awkwardly. It’s harmless flirting.
“Mira? Where are you?” I hear Henry call out, and my head immediately turns to look in the direction of his voice like a moth to a flame. Henry steps into my line of sight as he finishes pulling a shirt over his head, much to my dismay. His eyes are wide as he searches for me, halting at the sight of us. “Quinn?” he questions, dragging a hand through his dark hair, still sticking up in every direction from how he slept. I’d give anything to run my fingers through his hair. I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks.
“Can you grab the first aid kit out from under the sink?” Quinn asks Henry, who is staring at us.
Henry blinks, his gaze shifting from whatever Quinn is doing to my hand, following directions immediately after seeing it. “What happened?” he asks, his voice low from sleep. I keep my eyes on Henry, enjoying his disheveled appearance perhaps a little too much, but it’s a nice distraction from the nausea I feel. “I thought someth—you know, it doesn’t matter,” he trails off, handing the kit to Quinn.
“I knocked a glass of water over. I’m sorry,” I apologize, and he crouches down next to me, thankfully in the opposite direction of my hand.
“What the hell are you apologizing for? I don’t care about a glass, I care about you. You’re not looking so good,” he says, tilting my chin up to examine my face as Quinn presses something against the cut, causing me to wince.
“Just what every girl wants to be told,” I joke, and Henry’s eyes crinkle. “I’m fine, it’s the—”
“The blood, I know. Try not to faint, Walker. Keep your eyes on me,” Henry interrupts, and I’m distracted by the fullness of his bottom lip. It’s tempting to drag my good hand through his hair to smooth it out.
As if I could look anywhere else when he’s in the same room as me.Is it stupid for me to be excited that he remembers I hate blood? Actually, yeah, that is stupid. He definitely remembers the time our families were on vacation in the Bahamas when Hunter slipped on a rock, slicing his foot open. I fainted at the sight of all the blood, and poor Henry was stuck lugging us back to where our parents were lounging on the beach with JJ, Bailey, and Kaitlyn.
“What about blood?” Quinn asks, and Henry briefly looks at him, as if remembering he’s still in the room.
“Why are you shirtless?” Henry asks pointedly, and I force a short laugh, suddenly very nervous to be in the kitchen with Quinn and Henry.Fuck, if you count me in the mix, the level of hotness in this room is combustible.
“I have an extremely bad reaction to seeing blood that usually ends up with me fainting,” I explain quickly, as Henry’s hand falls from where it still lingered on my chin.
Henry’s jaw is covered in dark scruff, and since he told me to keep looking at him, I have free rein to note all the imperfect details on his perfect face. There’s a small bump on the bridge of his nose from where he broke it in college, his lips are slightly chapped and in need of lip balm, and his lashes are dark and stupidly long.I could give him some of my lip balm if he doesn’t have a problem with me applying it with my mouth.
We’re both trying to adjust to our new dynamic. I have yet to ask if he’ll practice making out with me, mainly because I’m not sure what I would do if Henry said no.
“What did you think happened when you came down? You look like you just got out of bed,” I point out, trying to distract myself from Quinn wrapping my hand up. At least this is almost over, and I can go drown myself in the shower.
Henry shakes his head quickly, averting his eyes from mine. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”
It does matter because I want to know. “Do I need to tell Quinn about the time you were caught—” Henry moves quickly to cover my mouth to shut me up. I laugh maniacally against his hand, tempted to lick it so he’ll take it off. I know plenty of shit about Henry that I could use to blackmail him into doing whatever I want.
“Whatever the fuck you were about to say,don’t. I heard the glass break, and I thought someone had broken in. You weren’t in your room when I checked, and I needed to know you were okay,” he answers, pulling his hand away.
Henry’s admission sobers the mood in the room, and it dawns on me the investigation into my family’s house is still ongoing. I received a call from a detective a few days ago asking if I had seen anyone new around the neighborhood. The case was officially declared arson, but I’ve been doing everything possible to keep my mind occupied.
“Nobody broke in. I was being a klutz.”
“All better,” Quinn says, and I feel guilty for directing all my focus on Henry.
“No blood?” I ask, still keeping my head angled upward to prevent my hand from being in my line of sight.
“No blood,” Quinn confirms, and I carefully lift my hand to examine my palm now covered in a light layer of gauze and tape. Flexing my hand, I’m impressed the tape doesn’t pull, but it still doesn’t feel great with the freshness of the cut.
“Thank you, Quinn. I appreciate it,” I say, smiling at him. He even brushed aside all the glass so I don’t have to see the shattered pieces anymore. I didn’t hear him do that.
“I know exactly how you can make it up to me,” Quinn says, and my smile grows. I’ll take the bait.
“And how is that?”
