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“I’ll tell you at home.”
31
SASHA
“You want me to what?”Roan blanched.
“I can’t reach,” I said, holding the needle and thread out to him.
He bit his lips and shook his head, looking like he was a second away from vomiting.
“Ok.” Setting the needle down, I stood and crossed over to the utensil drawer. I pulled out a butcher knife and turned the gas burner on, setting the knife on the flame. It wasn’t the ideal way to patch myself up, but I wasn’t going to make him do something he didn’t want to do.
“What are you doing now?” Roan asked, wide eyes watching me like a hawk.
“I have to close it somehow,” I replied, flipping the knife to heat the other side.
“Oh my God. Stop. I’ll do it.” He darted toward the stove and turned the burner off before shoving me back toward the kitchen island.
I settled on the stool again and propped my arm on the island, trying to make it as easy as possible for him.
He picked up the needle and thread and walked behind me, exhaling a slow, shaky breath.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” I said, glancing over my shoulder.
“Yeah. Ok. Got it.” His fingertips grazed my tricep and pinched the skin gently.
I waited for the sting of the needle, the tugging of the thread.
Nothing.
“I literally have no idea what I’m doing,” he said. “What if I fuck it up? Then your arm is going to get infected and you’ll fucking kill me.”
“You just watched me do the front. Do that. You’ll be fine.”
He expelled a short breath and touched my arm again. I could almost feel his cringe when he pushed the needle through my skin.
I tried to glance over my shoulder, but he pushed my face back the other way. “Don’t look. I’m nervous enough.”
“What are you nervous for? It’s not likeyougot shot.”
I meant it as a joke, but a second later Roan flung himself on my back, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face into my shoulder blade.
“Hey.” I squeezed his forearm gently. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. I promise. It’s not the first time I’ve been shot and I’m sure it won’t be the last time.”
“It’snotnothing, Sasha! You were fucking shot! I don’t care how many times it’s happened before. What if you’d been killed?”
“But I wasn’t.”
“You could have been!”
I sighed. There was no point in arguing. Not while I was still dripping blood on the floor, anyway.
“What the fuck is going on?” Roan asked, sliding around to the front of me, his blue eyes damp. “Who’s pissed off this time?”
“You remember the dead woman from the party?”
“Yeah…?”
