Page 22 of Lucky Laces
“Just a scratch?”I mutter, setting the scissors aside and eyeing the six-inch long gash.Thankfully, it’s not gushing blood, but it certainly isn’t showing any sign of stopping bleeding.
“It’s fine.”
Stubborn man.
I bite back a sigh and stand.“I’ll go get a first aid kit, see if I can find one of the trainers or Doc to patch you u…ah shit!”
The last is said as I catch sight of the door.
Or rather, where the door used to be.
“What is it?”he asks and I jerk toward him as he staggers up to his feet.
“Hudson!”
He ignores me, gaze going to the door—blocked with debris from the ceiling and walls—and then he curses softly.
But he does it going pale, staggering slightly.
Shit.
I hurry over to him, drawing him back down to the floor close to the desk in case we need to take cover again.“Stay there,” I mutter when he tries to get up again.
“I can clear the doorway?—”
“You can sit there and let me bind up that leg, Huddy.”I fix him in place with a glare.“And if that needs to be an order from me as your coach then it can be.”
His brows drag together, but he doesn’t argue further.
And I don’t know if it’s because I pulled the coach card or because he’s lost too much blood.Whatever the reason, he stays where I put him.Standing, I kick the debris aside, searching my desk drawers and file cabinet for something that will be helpful in this situation—like, for example, a hidden first aid kit that I’ve forgotten about.
But the drawers turn up nothing.
And Huddy is looking paler by the second.
Damn.
I kneel back at his side and do the only thing I can think of.
I tug off my shirt.
His mouth drops open.
But I ignore it, ignore that I’m now topless aside from a truly skimpy sports bra (the uncomfortable one I never wear but had to today because I’ve been avoiding laundry like the plague), and use the scissors to slice my tee into makeshift bandages.
It’s not sanitary.
But at least he won’t bleed out while I figure out how to get him help.
I layer the strips and wrap them around his thigh, tying them into a knot.
“This wasn’t how I expected it to go,” he says, words slightly slurred.
Concerned, I press down harder, tie the knot tighter.“How you expected what to go?”I ask, trying to keep him focused…and conscious.
“When I dreamed of you naked,” he slurs, eyes going hazy.“This isn’t how I expected it to go.”
My mouth falls open.
