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“Don’t be so dramatic.” She pats the mattress beside her. “Sit.”
Long seconds pass before he returns and sits beside her. “No stitches. Use the butterfly closures.”
“I disagree, but whatever.” Bracing a hand on his shirtless chest, she leans in with an intimacy that makes my skin crawl.
Her attention on his wound is all business, but her face drifts too close to his. I don’t like the way his lips part or how intensely he studies her.
I don’t like any of this.
Leo watches them with mayhem in his eyes, restlessly chewing on his thumbnail.
I know he’s waffling on whether to stay out of it or throw Monty through the wall. I’m leaning toward the latter, even if I can kind of understand Monty’s side of the argument.
I’m out of my element here. Emotions like this, the rawness of the fight and the need for comfort, are foreign to me. I only know abuse, fear, and manipulation. There was nothing normal or sane about my upbringing.
The only healthy relationship Leo and I have experienced is with her, and we’ll kill anyone who threatens it.
Sensing our unease, she looks up and quickly lifts her hand from his chest. “Everything is fine. Monty and I just have different ways of seeing things.”
“He upset you.” I crack my knuckles.
“Okay, but I upset him, too. Our disagreements don’t involve kin punishment or any kind of violence.” She makes a face. “The hole in his neck notwithstanding.”
“Yeah, I get that.” I feel a pang of something I can’t quite identify.
Respect, maybe. They butted heads without drawing blood.
“Emotions are all over place.” Her hands are steady as she opens the kit and gathers the supplies. “We’ve been dealing with detectives and reporters for three days. I haven’t really faced what happened over the past nine months, and I guess…” She shrugs. “I freaked out.”
“You had a panic attack,” Monty says quietly yet firmly.
“Hold still. This will sting.” She applies the antiseptic.
He lets out a sharp hiss.
“Butterfly bandages won’t work on this.” She cleans the cut with gentle precision, her laser-sharp focus telling me she compartmentalized her own pain to deal with Monty’s. “It’s still bleeding. The edges are jagged, and it’s so deep I can see down to your shriveled-up heart.”
“Then you can see the scars you left there.”
“Not through all the ice around it.”
His face hardens. “Use the bandages or fuck off.”
“Watch the way you talk to her.” Leo stalks forward.
“No.” She points at him. “Stay back. We’re just bickering.”
“You don’t need this, love.” Leo takes another step. “You took a huge emotional hit downstairs. You can barely sit up. You’re white as a ghost, and he’s fighting with you.”
“We’re arguing.” She sighs.
“Same thing.”
“No, it’s not.”
Monty glances at Leo. “The woman loves to argue.”
“I do not.”
