Page 21 of Heaven Help Me

“Deuce!” I slap his face gently, then a little more aggressively because he’s not responding. “Deuce! You open your eyes right now.”

He doesn’t.

“Fuck,” I hiss. I stand quickly and hobble into the kitchen, grabbing two ice packs and crouching by his head. I slip one under his head and try the slapping thing again.

Feels kind of good to slap him.

“At least try to be nice, V,” I tell myself out loud.

Deuce groans.

“Deuce, wake up or I’ll kiss you,” I shout down into his face.

His whole face contorts, then his eerie green eyes open, fluttering a bit before they focus on me. “Hunh.”

Now that I know he’s alive, I pull the wad of tissues off my leg, seeing if I need a replacement wad. Deuce emits a strangled whimper and then his eyes roll back in his head. I gape at him.

The fucker passed out!

I switch out the tissues and head back for my chair. Deuce passed out because of blood? Are we five?? I prop my leg up again and dab at it before putting more pressure on it. By the time Deuce’s eyes start fluttering again, I’ve got the other ice pack on it as it’s done bleeding.

“Welcome back,” I drawl.

Deuce sits up and shakes his head slowly. “What happened?”

“You fuckin’ dropped like a stone when you saw my shin. You got a phobia of blood or something?”

Deuce tugs at his tie, loosening it before pulling it over his head and setting it aside. He makes no move to get off the floor yet. “Did you throw away the tissues?”

I snort. “Yes. Thanks so much for your help, by the way. Do you know you scream like a little girl when you faint?”

His gaze snaps to mine, some color finally coming back in his cheeks. “Shut up.”

I crack up, already forgetting about my smarting shin. “I can’t believe you faint at the sight of blood. I think I might tease you about this forever.”

Deuce picks himself off the ground carefully and sits across the table from me. I notice he doesn’t dare flick a glance at my injured leg. “I can’t believe you have panic attacks, but I’d never tease you over it.”

My head snaps in his direction, all humor gone in an instant.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Oh, you thought I didn’t know what that little incident was back there at the boutique?”

I sigh, realizing when it’s better to strike a deal than to continue the fight. “I guess we both have a weakness.”

Deuce leans his elbows on the table and crowds into my space. “Having a natural biological response is not a weakness.”

“Says you,” I snap back.

He rolls his eyes. “Now who’s acting like a child?” He sits back in his chair, still studying me. “I’ve always been bad with blood. One of the many reasons being head of the Barzetti crime family was not the life for me.”

“I had no idea. You must have hid it well.” We spent every summer together from age ten until seventeen. How did I not notice that he couldn’t handle blood?

Fuck.

Now I feel something akin to sympathy for the man. I know what it’s like to hide a flaw. It’s a weakness, no matter what he says about it.

“I started having panic attacks three years ago,” I say softly, tone turning sarcastic quickly. “Came out of nowhere. Nothing says strong leadership like wringing of hands and breathing problems.”

Deuce gets up and heads for the kitchen, coming back with a first aid kit. He tosses bandages at me, including the butterfly type that might have a chance of holding this gash closed.