Page 18 of Breaking the Rules
“Clean through. Just a flesh wound,” she recited.
“Lay down.” The order was out of his mouth before he realized he was thinking it. “I mean, can I have you lay down so I can take the gauze off to see?”
Waverly shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever. I need to change them today anyway.” She turned away from him, the skirt of her dress swishing hypnotically around her knees. She lay on her back and pretended he wasn’t in the room. Xavier circled the bed and eased onto the mattress next to her. His fingers shook when he reached for the bandage.
With care, he peeled it off to reveal a small red hole closed with ruthlessly neat stitches. A relatively small caliber, but still. One inch to the left, and she wouldn’t be laying here now. He could have lost her without ever having found his way back to her.
Rage clogged his throat. She was supposed to be safer without him.
“You’re angry,” she said softly.
He nodded.
“You’re angry, and you’re not yelling at me,” she added.
He raised his gaze to her face. Those gray-green eyes that held the power to stun him watched him warily. He did his best to swallow his anger enough that he didn’t let it lash out but he still didn’t trust his voice. He wanted to rail and yell and force her to tell him what was going on. He needed to know, needed to understand the threats that she faced. Because her threats were his.
But he needed her to tell him, to trust him.
“Okay, now you’re starting to scare me, X,” Waverly told him.
He shook his head. “Can I see the other side?”
Obliging, she rolled carefully onto her side away from him. He repeated the process on her back, peeling away the layers of tape and gauze. The wound was a little larger in diameter as exit wounds were prone to be. But again, the stitches were fine and delicate. The flesh around the bullet hole was pink and healthy.
His fingers traced the area around the wound gently, and he saw goose bumps crop up over her skin.
“Both wounds look healthy,” he said.
“Xavier, I’m fine,” Waverly told him.
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
“You sound like you’re being strangled. I know you’re upset.”
Xavier cleared his throat. “Where’s the gauze?” he asked, ignoring her statement.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m doing it.” The words snapped out of him even though his hands remained gentle, not quite completely under control.
“In the bathroom next to the sink.”
He left her on the bed and found the supplies on the quartz countertop. He paused a moment to collect himself. The breath he took filled his lungs with her scent, steadying him. There were a thousand questions racing through his mind, and he needed answers. But he didn’t know if he’d have the patience to wait for them.
He returned to her side and gently rebandaged her back before easing her over to attend to her front.
She laid a hand on his arm as he reached for her. “Xavier. It’s just a flesh wound.”
“Stop placating me, Angel.” He stared hard into her eyes.
“What do you want me to do? You’re upset.”
“I want an honest reaction out of you. Rub it in that I walked away from you and that this is what happened because of it. Tell me the truth. Or tell me to mind my own goddamn business. I want you to be up front about hurting me. Don’t try to cheer me up while you hide how much you don’t trust me. I’m not your parents.”
She did wince then at his words. He began to bandage the wound on her abdomen.
“Fine,” she told him. “I don’t trust you, and I don’t see how I ever would again. I’m not going to tell you how or why I got shot. You’re wasting your time here.”
