Page 86 of Wilde's End
Booker opens the door, leaning against the doorway as he looks from Hudson to me. “Why are you both standing in the rain?”
“Because it’s fucking raining?” I point out.
He steps aside to let us in, and I don’t miss the way his eyes linger on my neck. “My, my. What fun have you been up to today?” He walks across to the bed and pats the top of it. I hate sitting in here, despite Peril sending me here more times than Ican count. Especially in the earlier days when it was all fists, blood, and broken bones.
“Ran into Lynx.”
“Ah.” His gaze snags on my leg. “Pants off.”
I huff and shove painfully out of them before climbing up onto the chair. I’m confident the cut wasn’t deep, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to walk on; every flex of the muscle sends a spasm through my leg and into my hip.
“I’m not used to you having an audience,” Booker says, pulling his gloves on and walking closer.
“I’m not used to it either.” I glare at Hudson, but he only grabs a chair and drops into it.
“Repaying the favor.” He grins, like he’s enjoying this, but something makes it feel fake.
Booker tilts my head back and runs his fingers over the bite. “Bobby tore you right up.”
I grunt as Booker lingers over the wound. I don’t have time to play his games today. “Can you get on with it? Not a fan of how much it hurts.”
“Oh, I bet it does.” He leans closer. “I know better than to offer you painkillers though. I’ll need to clean it up and give you a shot—don’t argue with me.” He breathes in deeply before moving on to my leg. “This will require stitches.” He peels the wound back so far it makes Hudson gag and look away. “The clever man reached muscle. What were you doing playing with his knife anyway?”
“It wasn’t intentional.” For all his faults, Lynx is as much a part of this town as I am, which makes me add, “From either of us.”
Hudson snorts. “What other reason would he have for carrying that huge thing around? Even if he didn’t want someone to get hurt, he wanted to intimidate us into thinking we would.”
He’ll never understand things outside of that narrow social consciousness he grew up with. Everyone out here coexists—even Lynx knows that—and we all have a purpose that makes the town work. The way things happen where he comes from and how they happen here don’t align. “He uses it to clear paths. Lynx explores further than the rest of us, and most of the paths you ride on were created by him. Plus, he travels deep into the forest, to our borders, making sure his deterrents are set up and there’s nothing around that will attract unwanted animals, so he uses it for protection as well.” As much as I’m hurting and want to bury my fist in Lynx’s face, it’s important Hudson gets it. “He never leaves the house without that thing. To him, it’s safety. Freedom. An extension of himself. I’d wager money that he had no idea it was scaring you.”
“We’ll disagree on that.”
Apparently. I go back to ignoring him, which really is what I aim to do most of the time. It doesn’t play into mymake friends with the guy plan, but I figure that can wait for my leg to be stitched back together. Injuries always make me grumpy, and this is no different.
Booker gets to work, cleaning the wounds on my neck and face and patching me up as best he can. Then he gives me a shot for the bite before starting on my leg. I have no idea why he’d leave the worst for last, but a hunch tells me he wants more time to enjoy his work. So long as he fixes me, I don’t give a shit, but I wait, teeth locked together as he tugs the needle through my skin, over and over again.
I do my best not to let the pain show, but fuck, it hurts. Almost enough that I consider relaxing my rule and accepting the pain relief, but I can get through this. I’ve gotten through worse.
“You’re going to struggle to sleep through the pain tonight,” Booker warns, cutting off the stitches and sealing the area withgauze. “You need to keep those clean. No swimming. Come to me if they bust open again … or just if you want me to look after them for you.”
“I’m sure I’ll manage.”
I climb off the bed, leg stiff and already causing hell, and before I can reach for my pants, Hudson beats me to it. He kneels, pants held open and waiting, and when his eyes flick up my way, there’s a silent challenge in his gaze to deny him.
But having him kneel at my feet is making the need to deny him the last thing on my mind.
I step into one side, then the next, and Hudson slowly drags my jeans back up again. He’s careful not to hurt me, even though I’d expected him to do it on purpose. It’s not like we haven’t made each other’s lives hard.
He stands, only a few inches between us as he fastens the top button. “Time to get you home.”
“Oh, I bet it is,” Booker interjects, reminding me he’s in the room.
I stride away from them both.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
HUDSON
