Page 10 of The Lost and the Found

Hayden

I watchedhim from the corner of my eye as he drove me home.

He was confident and so comfortable in everything he did that it was hard not to admire him. I wanted that kind of confidence.

When he pulled up to my apartment building, I asked him if he would like to come up, mainly because I needed to look at his wound, but, admittedly, a small part of me didn’t want to say goodbye to him.

Not yet, anyway. I loved the way he made me feel.

He nodded in agreement, and together we walked up to my small apartment. I unlocked the door and walked in first before allowing him to follow me in. Then I made sure to lock the door.

I knew his eyes were on me then. My pose and movements felt unnatural, even as I told myself I had no reason to feel this way.

I moved around my small apartment, making sure everything was in place, just how I had left it. After I was satisfied, I motioned toward the lone couch in my living room, gesturing for him to sit down. He did so carefully, fully aware of his blood-stained shirt.

I wanted to tell him not to be so careful, to sit in a way that would make him comfortable, because that couch was a piece of junk, but I didn’t.

I left him there and walked to bathroom, where I kept the first-aid kit. I grabbed it along with one of the baggy shirts I used to sleep in. It should fit him, as I had bought the shirt in the men’s section, picking out an extra-large.It was the most comfortable shirt I owned, and also the biggest. I gave a small tentative smile as I walked over to him.

“Can I look?” I asked, sitting down next to him.

He hesitated for a moment or two before nodding and moving closer to the edge, turning his back to me.

I waited patiently while he unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it on the floor along with his white undershirt.

I gasped a little at the sight of the wound. How could he say it didn’t hurt?

“You need to go to the hospital. You need to get this stitched up.” I felt him tense when I softly ran my fingers on the skin that surrounded the big knife wound. He was going to have a scar, there was no doubt about it.

“I’m fine. Just clean it up as best as you can and bandage me up.”

“How can you say that? What if you get an infection?”

“I won’t. I’ve suffered through much worse, believe me.”

I frowned at his cryptic words until I took in his back.I let out another gasp, my eyes moving over the skin stretched out before me. There had got to be at least a dozen scars there. Some looked to be clean cuts, others not so much.

There was a nasty looking one in particular, just above his hip. The scar appeared old; the skin slightly raised. It was jagged-looking, starting from his hip and expanding diagonally up to his ribs, no bigger than three inches.

What happened to you?

My hands went to go there, but I stopped myself before I touched it. Touched him. I didn’t think it was appropriate.

He may have saved me, but we were nothing more than strangers. I didn’t even know his name.

“What’s your name?” I asked. How could I have gone so long and not have asked him?

“Logan Cross. Will you tell me your name now that you know mine?”

“Hayden Bishop.”

“Hayden,” he said, as if he was testing the name out. I could hear the smile in his voice. “I like it.”

I didn’t say anything more. Opening up the first-aid kit, I turned my attention back to his wound. “It’s too big,” I said. “I can’t just clean it up with what I have here.”

I stood and pulled him up with me. He gave in easily, otherwise, I didn’t think I could have moved him from the couch even if I tried.

With his hand in one of mine, I used the other to grab the first-aid kit and lead him to my bathroom.

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