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Her touch throws me off, and I tug my hand back. “It’s fine. I don’t even feel it.” Who cares if there’s a little blood? I was raised to be tough. This is nothing.

She takes my hand again, and this time I don’t pull away. She brings it close to her face, looking it over. Then her soft gaze shifts up to me. Her usual hard expression has melted away. She stares at me with genuine concern and says, “Just because you can’t feel it doesn’t mean you aren’t hurt.”

My heart stops. There’s a lump at the back of my throat, and I force myself to breathe. I watch her eyes, looking for any sign of deception, but there isn’t any. She wholeheartedly believes what she said.

Is that the kind of thing people say when they care about you?

She shuffles through her bag. “There’s a corner store a couple blocks down. Let’s go there and get some disinfectant and Band-Aids.”

My jacket is still lying on the ground. I grab it and wrap it around my hand. “It’s fine. I’ll take care of it when I get home. I don’t want you to be late.”

She crosses her arms and shakes her head. “No.” Then,she takes hold of me by my arm and starts to march back down the alleyway. “You deserve to be taken care of too.”

Margo leaves no room for argument.

I let her lead me away.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

MARGO

I march down to the corner store with a clear mission. I find the aisle with everything from gauze to pain meds. Daniel stands awkwardly behind me as I find what I need. I try to be quick, but at the same time I make sure to read the packages to make sure I’m not getting something that’s cheap quality.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say, walking off.

I set everything down at the checkout and pull out cash before he has a chance to even offer to pay. Besides, it’s only like ten dollars. I don’t mind. A person can never have too many Band-Aids.

“Do you need a bag?” the cashier asks.

“No thanks,” I say. I finish the transaction and lead Daniel back outside. We walk down to the bus stop, where there’s a bench, making it much easier to clean his hand. “Sit down.”

It’s fun ordering him around because I didn’t think he’d be the type to listen to me. And yet, here he is, sitting down.

I hold my hands out, waiting for him to take the hint.

He takes the jacket off his hand, which he had been usingto stop the blood from getting on anything else, and brings it closer to me. But not close enough.

I pull his hand closer, then I take one of the disinfectant wipes and dab his skin.

He sucks in a breath, which I’m assuming is from the sting of the disinfectant. I always hated that feeling growing up, but after living in the hospital for so long, I grew used to it.

I take a couple Band-Aids and place them over the scratches. I turn his hand over to make sure I didn’t miss anything. “There. Good as new.”

There’s the slightest pull on his lips as he looks down at his hand. Like he wants to smile but won’t let himself. “Thanks.”

I put the wipes and bandages in my bag and lean back against the bench.

The bus appears on the horizon, and I find my pass. “Are you getting on this one too?”

He nods. “But I have to get off at Monroe and get on a connecting bus.”

“That makes sense,” I say. I’m not going to lie, the bus routes confuse me. I know how to get home from downtown, but I don’t use them that often. I did today because I felt like it was easier than convincing someone to drop me off. I didn’t feel like coming up with a story to explain myself.

The bus hisses to a stop. I get on with Daniel trailing behind me. I swipe my pass and head down the aisle. The bus starts moving, and I lose my footing. Daniel steadies me with a hand on my back. My heart skips, and I’m quick to move toward the back row. I sit down by the window and watch the buildings go by, pretending I didn’t notice his touch.

Considering how he wants nothing to do with me, I expect Daniel to sit down as far away as possible, but he passes rowsof empty seats. He passes so many opportunities to sit somewhere else, and instead, he chooses the seat right next to me.

Is it because I helped him just now? Am I starting to grow on him? Or does he just feel obligated to sit next to me because I’m by myself?

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