Page 8 of Wild Hope
“No one touches you.” The possessiveness of his words make me shudder in a good way. But he’s probably this protective of all his staff.
He lifts his hand to run it through his hair, and there’s blood smeared across his knuckles.
“You’re bleeding.”
He winces as he flexes his fist. I don’t know if it’s his blood or the drunk man’s.
“We need to get this disinfected. Where’s the first aid kit?”
“My office.”
I grab his wrist and lead him out the back and into the office. My heart’s racing from the contact and what just went down. Travis stood up for me and took that asshole out.
I find the first aid kit and pull out a disinfectant wipe to mop up the blood. Then I get another one to clean out the cut.
“This might hurt.”
I dab disinfectant on his cut, but he doesn’t even wince.
“Tough guy, huh?”
Travis smiles. The fire has gone out of his eyes, and he’s back to the affable guy I know.
“You can’t be in the military and then cry over a minor cut.”
It’s not just a minor cut. The knuckles are turning purple, and they’ll be bruised tomorrow.
“I’m gonna bandage this up for you. You need to rest it.”
“Yes, doctor.”
I glance at him, and he’s smiling at me. My gaze darts to his lips, and I look down quickly before I do something stupid like kiss him.
“Why’d you leave the military anyway?”
I haven’t seen Travis since he spent Thanksgiving with us six years ago. It was soon after that that my parents passed away and I hit the road. I heard from Quentin that he was back, but I could never bring myself to see him until now.
“My time was done, and I was needed back here.” He gives me a funny look I can’t interpret. “Where have you been for the last six years anyway?”
It’s my turn to be evasive. “Here, there, everywhere. The east mostly. Seasonal work in Kentucky and waiting tables in South Carolina.”
Anywhere I could get away from the memory of my parents is what I don’t add.
“What brought you back to the mountain?”
You is what I want to say. It’s been six damn years since I saw him, and he still plagues my dreams every night. No other man has ever lived up to Travis. I came back to see if I still felt the same, hoping that I wouldn’t so I could move on with my life.
“To see if it felt like home yet.”
He tilts his head. “You gonna stay?”
“That depends.” I finish wrapping his hand and secure the bandage. Our heads are inches apart, and my heart’s beating so loud he must hear it.
“On what?”
“If there’s anything worth staying for.”
There. I’ve said it in the most obvious way short of telling him I came back for him.
