Page 26 of Flashback for the Forward

Bridget shook her head. “The fewer people who know I’m here, the better.”

While it made me feel a hundred feet tall that, despite our past, she’d chosen to trust me in this moment of extreme vulnerability, I hated that she refused to let me care for her properly.

I cupped her cheek. “I don’t want you to see a reminder of this night every time you look in the mirror.”

Her lips folded inward. “There’ll be a scar either way.”

True, but a plastic surgeon could minimize its impact on her appearance.

“All right. You win,” I conceded, though I wasn’t the least bit happy about it.

Before I could grab the bandages needed to close her wound, a hoarse scream pierced the air. There was barely time to react before her knees jerked upward, catching me right in the balls.

All the air was forced from my lungs, and I doubled over at the sudden burst of pain that made me see stars.

Cupping my sore junk with one hand, I gripped the kitchen island with the other to remain upright. In a voice that came out an octave higher than normal, I wheezed, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

When I glanced up, Bridget was trembling so hard that her teeth chattered.

“S-something touched m-my foot.”

Almost as if on cue, I felt the softness of fur against my leg, and I let out a breath. “Oh, that’s just my cat.”

Instantly, a flush of pink rose up her neck. Placing a hand over her face, she groaned. “Can we pretend that didn’t happen?”

“Hey.” I tugged on her wrist, uncovering her face. “You’ve been to hell and back tonight. It’s understandable that you’d be on edge.”

Her eyes lifted to the ceiling. “I feel so silly.”

Bending down, I scooped up my pet. “Bridget, meet Cinder.”

As she lowered her gaze, the softest smile touched her lips. “Cute name for a dark gray cat.”

“I thought so.” I scratched under the feline’s chin, and his chest began to vibrate as he purred. “Would you like to hold him?”

“Yes, please.”

Without hesitation, I placed Cinder on her lap. She ran a hand down his back in long strokes, and the tension in her muscles melted away.

That’s a good boy, Cinder.

“He’s a sweet little thing,” Bridget remarked as I went back to work placing the bandages above her eyebrow. “How long have you had him?”

“Just shy of two years. Crew made a strong case for a dog, but given how much we travel, a cat seemed like the better option.”

“How is Crew?”

I huffed out a laugh. “About the same as the last time you saw him. He hasn’t matured much past the age of nineteen.”

“I always wondered what went down in the womb that he got your share of silliness and you absorbed what was supposed to be his capacity for seriousness.”

Affixing the last of the butterfly strips, I replied, “Wish I could tell you, but my memory doesn’t go back that far.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Guess it’ll just have to remain one of life’s greatest mysteries, then. Just like the Loch Ness Monster and the Bermuda Triangle.”

A chuckle broke free from my chest. The moment of levity was much needed, and it was a relief to see that bastard hadn’t beaten the sense of humor out of her.

“All done,” I declared, my fingers trailing down the side of her face.