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Steve opened the unmarked tube and swabbed the wound.
Chase let out another low growl. Baxter lifted his head and whined.
“Now turn him over. And I wish the dog would get off the bed.”
Della turned Chase, and got Baxter down again. Chase moaned. Della’s gut knotted, feeling his muscles tighten and knowing she’d caused him pain.
Steve cleaned the wound and covered it in the ointment. After she rolled Chase back over, Steve started to walk away. But then his brows creased and he leaned down to study the wound.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Is it getting infected?” Della asked, not liking Steve’s sudden interest.
He glanced up, puzzled. “No, but the wound is already closing.”
“Is that good?”
“It’s … odd.” He looked at the bag of blood. “He’s barely gotten any blood. Usually … it takes longer.” He looked back at the wound. “But yes, I guess it’s good. He won’t be losing more blood. Let’s just hope he doesn’t get an infection.” Steve picked up the tube. “What’s in this stuff?”
“I don’t know,” Della said. “If it’s already healing and doesn’t look infected, does that mean he’s in the clear?” She wanted to hear Steve tell her Chase was going to be okay.
“Not necessarily,” he said. “But it’s a good sign.”
She tried to find peace in that, but it wasn’t helping very much. “So how long before he’s conscious?”
“That depends on how much blood he lost. He looked as if he’d lost a lot. I can stay with him if you want to go.”
“No, you can go. I’m gonna stay. Please, I have this now. If I need you, I’ll call.”
He nodded, and from his expression she saw that he was reading a lot into her request. All of the awkwardness she’d feared from the situation bubbled to the surface.
Glancing back at the bed, she went over and lifted the cover over Chase’s mostly naked body. Not because she thought he was cold, but for modesty’s sake. She wouldn’t want to think someone would let her lay there half naked and out of it.
She motioned for Steve to follow her out of the room. “I … Chase was hurt trying to help clear my father’s name. I owe it to him to make sure he’s okay.” But that wasn’t the only reason, and she knew it. The truth was there, deep in the pit of her gut, where she didn’t have time to dig for it.
When Steve didn’t answer, she added, “Chase and I aren’t … together.” It wasn’t a lie, so why did that make her heart do a couple of cartwheels?
Steve smiled. Not a real smile, but something close. “It’s okay, you don’t have to justify it, Della.”
Didn’t she? She watched him go back into the bedroom and collect his bag, and another question hit. Wouldn’t the old Steve need a justification?
When he came out, he hugged her. She closed her eyes and tried to find comfort in that embrace, but all she felt was the awkwardness. And then that same sensation from earlier hit, the one that said things had changed.
“Thank you.” She pulled back.
“I think Chase is the one who needs to thank me.” Steve ran his hand down her forearm. “We still need to have that talk.”
“I know.”
He grinned, and this time it was real. But his eyes still looked sad.
“Don’t let him move around for several hours. As soon as he comes to, make him drink blood. If he hasn’t come to by the time his IV is finished, call me and I’ll come and set up another one. Check the wound at least every hour. If the wounds start looking red or inflamed, call me immediately.”
She nodded, then stood there and watched him leave. For some crazy reason, while she hadn’t actually decided how she felt about Steve, or what would or wouldn’t happen between them now, she felt he had decided. Had he closed the door to the possibility of them being a “them”?
She still hadn’t decided how she felt about that when she heard Chase moan. All thoughts about Steve shot out the window and she ran to check on Chase.
When she got to the bedroom door, she saw him trying to get up. “No.” She ran to his side. “Don’t get up.” She eased him back down.
He looked up at her. Then he caught her hand. “Stay here,” he said.
