Page 48 of Bones
The door opening again rescued me. An older coughing man came in, followed by a man limping, his face lined in pain. Relief made me dizzy as I went back to work, trying to ignore the curious looks I got with my fucked up face. Before I finished with the man who’d sprained his ankle, several more people came in with minor injuries. The clinic didn’t empty for a couple hours, but as the last person filed out, Trey followed and flipped the sign on the door to “Closed.”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“The clinic is closed.” Trey leaned out the door and said something to someone I couldn’t quite make out. When he came back in and shut the door behind him, he gave me a stern look. “You’re hurt and you need to rest.”
Panic rose in my throat. “I need to?—”
“It can wait,” Trey cut in.
I didn’t know how to explain that I had to keep moving, that staying busy was the only thing holding me together.
“Who’s taking the night watch?” I asked, hoping to distract him.
“Me.”
I frowned. “You’ve been here all day.”
“I hope you’re not gettin’ tired of me,” he teased, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m gonna be staying here for a while. Think of it like a permanent security detail. Griz and Mac are gonna bring a mattress over.”
I froze. My eyes darted between him and the door. Would he sleep in the clinic with me?
“I’ll set up over here by the door,” Trey added, his voice softening like he could sense my panic.
Was I relieved or terrified? I wasn’t sure. Both?
“Oh,” I managed to say.
We stared at each other for a few breaths, but the stillness felt unbearable. I needed to dosomething.I moved to the sink, grabbed the old plastic bucket underneath, and filled it with water.
“What are you doing?” Trey asked, an edge to his voice.
“Cleaning.” Somebody had wiped up most of my blood from the floor, but it needed a good scrubbing.
“Bones,” he sounded exasperated, “this is not resting.”
“I don’t need to sit on my ass,” I snapped at him.
I heard him approaching, and I tensed. He reached past me and turned the water off. The soft sleeve of his flannel shirt brushed my arm. “What are you gonna clean?” he asked quietly.
“The floor.”
“Let me do it.” He lifted the bucket out of the sink.
“I can do it,” I argued.
“I know you can,” he replied, grabbing the stiff bristle brush from under the sink, “but you don’t have to.”
I glared at his back as he strode away and got down on his hands and knees to scrub the floor.Godsdamnit. I settled for rearranging the shelf of tiny bottles. I caught Trey giving me an annoyed look, but he didn’t say anything. He finished the floor before I finished my task. Reaching up to grab the bottles on the tallest shelf made my shoulders and arms hurt. My body was starting to ache, and I knew I would be hurting worse tomorrow, but right now I needed to keep moving.
“Let me get it.”
He startled me, appearing behind me out of thin air.
“Sorry,” he said when I jumped. He grabbed the bottles off the high shelf, setting them down on the counter for me to organize. “I can put them back up. Just tell me where.”
I scowled but directed him on where to put the small bottles. With his help, we finished the tedious job far too quickly. I scanned the small room, trying to figure out what to tackle next. The windows needed to be cleaned, but they were so high up and I wasn’t sure if I could?—
“Bones, will you sit for a godsdamned minute?” Trey’s voice sharpened.
