Page 34 of Stitch
“I have to go.”
Has-Been reached a hand out, and I flinched back.
“The fuck? Cammy, girl, just breathe for me. Lissa’s coming down. You trust Lissa, yeah?”
Lissa. Lissa could get me out. She could help me get away.
Nineteen
Ishoved Reacher awayfor the third time.
“I need to check on Camille. She freaked out or something, and she needs me.”
He grabbed me again, dragging me toward the doc’s damn infirmary.
“I don’t know what the fuck you did to that poor girl, but her exact words were ‘keep him away from me’, so as much as I hate to think badly of you, I’m not letting you near her right now.”
I slumped in his hold, and he stopped to glare at me.
“She said what? What the hell is going on?”
“You’re gonna get your injury sorted, and then we’ll figure that out.”
“I’m fine, it’s just a bit of blood. I think we over-reacted. Honestly, it’s all good.” He shoved me at the door just as it opened, and I staggered inside.
“Morning VP, let’s see what you’ve done to yourself then.”
I shot him a glare, and stepped out of reach.
“I’m fine. It was all a misunderstanding, brother. I’m sorry if they woke you unnecessarily.”
Doc glanced at Reacher, and it was enough for the bastard to pull the door closed, leaving me in the infirmary with the doc.
“I’ve seen the records on the biopsy and surgery, brother. I know what you had done, and where, so there’s nothing to hide, or feel ashamed about, okay? Reacher said you tore stitches, but my understanding is that they shouldn’t evenstill be there.”
I shrugged. “Didn’t bother going back for the last appointment. No point until I know whether I’m dead anyway, right?”
“Prick. Get your jeans and underwear off, and get up on the table. I’ll get you sorted out in no time.”
I stared at the table, picturing myself there, half naked, while this man I’ve known for too long has his hands and eyes on my junk.
“I… fuck me, I can’t okay? It can’t be you. Not you, man.”
He shrugged, unconcerned. “Got junk of my own. I’m familiar with how it all looks, in fact, I’m more familiar than you. See, I went to a fucking school to learn how to fix all manner of shit, including torn stitches, and including injuries below the waist. So man the fuck up, and get up there. I have other shit to do today.”
He turned and rummaged in a drawer, turning back around as he slid surgical gloves on.
“I need to see the area, brother, and I need to see what’s bleeding. Your stitches were due out, so technically the possibility of tearing them isn’t high, so I need to see what happened. The sooner you let me look, the sooner you’re out of here.”
Jesus. I glanced at the door one more time, and took a deep breath. I can do this. It’s just my most intimate fucking area, in front of the eyes of a man I’ve had many a drink with in the bar.
I lowered my jeans, and then hooked my thumbs into my boxers.
“Brother, I’ll be as quick as I can, but trust me, you’re not going to shock me, or find any reason in this room to be embarrassed. I saw your notes, and I know what to expect.”
“Do me a favour and keep your back turned until I’m ready, doc. This is the weirdest fucking situation I’ve ever been in, and in this club, that’s a pretty tall order.” He laughed, and turned to give me the last moment of privacy before I bared the remains of my junk to him.
“Ready? Okay, let’s take a look at what you’ve done to yourself.” Doc turned, and leaned over me, while I laid my arm across my eyes, and pretended to be anywhere but here.
