Page 120 of Sinful Like Us
Her hand slipsout of mine, and she slides and slides. Too rapidly to catch, and Maximoff loses his footing. He falls next.
Farrow and I rush after them, but both land in the knee-deep, bone-chillingrockystream. I’ve never moved this fast. I’ve never picked Jane up this quickly, and I’ve never felt her arms wrap around me this tight.
How the fuck did this happen?
It plays over and fucking over in my head when we reach the car, and I slam the door shut. Rain beats against the vehicle. Dry cover as Farrow and I move with severe urgency inside.
I’m in the backseat, and I slide Jane’s soaked and torn jeans down her thighs, down her ankles. Crimson bleeds into the mint-green fabric, and I throw aside the bloodied jeans. Her trembling fingers struggle to grip the zipper of her wet jacket.
I take over and skate the zipper down.
How the fuck did this happen?It rings in my ears. Slams at my chest. Jane being hurt is a thousand jackknives to the head and heart, and my feelings for her are bursting at me like blazing fireworks in my face. My greatest duty in this lifetime is to protect the woman I love.
She’s the only one, and this singular purpose pushes me to stay focused, gliding her jacket sleeves off her arms. Her brown hair sopping her shoulders as she shudders.
I tie her hair into a high messy bun, and in the front seats, Farrow is helping the man he loves remove his jacket and drenched shirt beneath. Maximoff tries to peel the crew-neck off his vibrating body, but Farrow does the job for him.
Shaking uncontrollably, Maximoff glances back at Jane. He looks how I feel. “Her lips…are blue,” he chatters.
Jane stares petrified at him. Because his lips are blue too.
Their panic justtanksthe air, and I understand the bond she shares with Maximoff because I share the same one with my twin brother. But I’m also connected to her, and the love I wield for Jane and the love Farrow carries for Maximoff—it drives two more sets of pain.
Two more weightstankingus.
We’re three-ways in hell, and the only good thing is that all four of us are built to withstand the fire.
I draw her on my lap, careful with her leg, where a rock cut her from knee to shin. “He’s okay,” I assure Jane.
“She’ll be fine, Maximoff,” Farrow says with certainty.
My muscles are taut. Searing.
“I can’t…” Jane takes sharp breaths like her lungs are ice. Her wet blue-feathered blouse makes her look like a trembling bluebird caught in a rainstorm.I have to get her out of these clothes.
“I have you.” I cup her cheek—her skin is freezing. Blood is also dripping down her leg, and I have to prioritize one. I make the call and choose her leg. Farrow is already reaching back and handing me a first-aid kit and water bottle.
I pop the kit’s plastic lid.
“Is the cut deeper than a quarter of an inch?” Farrow asks while he helps Maximoff pull off his soaked jeans.
I examine the cut. “Almost.”
She squeezes her eyes closed, fighting for fuller breath.
Heat expels from the car’s A/C, and Maximoff ensures the vents are open and directs them towards Jane.
“Okay, you need to wash the cut and apply pressure.” Farrow stretches between the driver and passenger seat, closer to the backseat to get a better assessment. He’s calm but looks serious. “If it doesn’t stop bleeding after fifteen minutes, I’ll suture her.”
I nod.
Thank the Lord he’s a fucking doctor.It’s not the first time I’ve thought that. Wasting no time, I splash water on Jane’s shin, washing off some dirt, and I expect her towince.But she shakes.
Shivers.
Shudders forward, too cold to feel the pain—and alarm quickens my actions.
Swiftly, I bite open a packet of gauze and press down on the wound. I fist the hem of her blouse and tug the drenched fabric off her head. Her nipples prod against her soaked, see-through pink bra, and her cat-printed panties aren’t dry either.
