Page 17 of Hail Marry
I must have overdone it. I tend to do that.
“No symptoms of concussion?” he asks.
“Nope. Fit as a fiddle.”
He looks around, though for what, I’m not sure. “Do you live with someone?”
“Nope. Just me.” My brother Troy owns a few properties around L.A., and he’s been nice enough to let me live here for the past year. He could get a lot more money if he rented it to someone else, which makes me feel like a terrible sister whenever I think about it.
Luca frowns at my response. “You really shouldn’t be alone after a head injury like you had.”
“It’s okay. At discharge, they suggested I set alarms for one and four a.m., so I did.”
“Really?” he seems impressed.
“I think so. I slept through them, but hey”—I put out my arms—“I’m still here.” I kind of freaked out when I woke up this morning, knowing I’d slept through the alarms, but he doesn’t need to know that. His frown is already plenty intense.
“What about your arm?”
I hold it up, even though the sleeve completely covers it. “Ship shape!”
He looks at me for a second. “Can I see?” When I hesitate, he adds, “I promised the doctor I’d check on you.”
“It’s not a big deal.” But I roll up my sleeve anyway, revealing the bandage.
“When was the last time you changed the dressing?”
“Um…”
His brow cocks. “You haven’t changed it.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. And an accurate one.
“It’s in an awkward place,” I say. “Besides, it’s fine.”
He scoots to the edge of his seat and motions for me to give him my arm.
I don’t move.
“Do you want gangrene?” he asks.
I let him take my arm, and he unwraps the bandage.
I cringe when the road rash appears. It looks…not great. I think I can see a few pieces of L.A. street lodged in there.
Luca’s gaze flicks to mine, then he grabs the sack beside him. “I’ve had road rash. It can get infected really easily. They should’ve sanitized it yesterday.” He pulls out various items from the bag: gauze, ointment, soap, and tape.
For the next few minutes, I do my best not to show how much the cleaning stings. For a man with such large hands, he’s surprisingly gentle, though. It’s clear he has some experience with injuries. I guess that makes sense. He rams into other large human bodies at full speed as a job.
His bandaging work is neat, and I turn my arm to admire it.
“I’m going to come check on you again tomorrow,” he says.
“You really don’t need to do that. I don’t actually blame you for the road rash, obviously.”
“I’ll be here at the same time tomorrow.” He gathers up his things, then starts walking to the door.
“Again with the bossiness,” I say, following him.
He stops at the door and looks at me. “I’ve been around a lot of head injuries, Victoria. They’re not something to take lightly. But if you really don’t want me to come, I won’t.”
