Page 57 of Mountain Dreams

“He stood here, in my house, and accused me of something that was a lie. What was I supposed to do, invite him to sit down and discuss it over tea?”

“Well, you didn’t have to hit him.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry.” Sort of.

“I think you owe him an apology more than me.”

He sighed. Then it struck him that if Maddie hadn’t come home when she had, there might not have been a fight. “Didn’t you get my text warning you that he was here?”

“Yes, but not until I was already home.”

“But you came in anyway. Why?”

“Because I didn’t want you to face him alone. This is my problem, not yours.”

“It’s a little late for that now,” he muttered.

She gaped at him. “Do you want me to leave? I can go to my parents’ house if you don’t want me here.”

Dammit. He was screwing up everything tonight. “No. I don’t want you to leave.”

They locked eyes, and he hoped she saw that he meant it. Then she glanced down and said, “Oh no. You’re bleeding!”

She picked up his right hand and lifted it to eye level. Sure enough, his knuckles were bloody from the right hook he’d landed on Wyatt’s jaw.

“Come with me.” Taking his hand, she led him into the kitchen. She pointed to a chair and said, “Sit.”

There was no way in hell he was going to argue after the stunt he’d pulled, so he sat. She pulled some paper towels off the holder and dampened them at the sink. Then she came over, lifted his hand again, and gently pressed the towel to his bloody knuckles. It was probably nothing compared to the pain Wyatt felt, but he wasn’t against a little nursing.

“Where are your bandages?” she asked, intent on the task at hand.

“I don’t need them.”

“You’re still bleeding.”

“It’ll stop soon.”

“Are you used to this? Has this happened before?”

“Bloody knuckles? Yeah. Once or twice.”

“I’ve never known you to hit anyone.”

“Only if they threaten me or someone I care about.”

She paused her ministration and studied him intently. “Like me?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice coming out breathier than he’d intended. His adrenaline was still running high, and with her standing so close and tending to him like this, it was making him crazy.

“When Wyatt accused you…I should have stood up for you. You’ve been a perfect gentleman and nothing like he described.”

“He was just spouting off,” he said. A perfect gentleman? I wouldn’t go that far.

She was still dabbing his knuckles with the towel, but she looked lost in thought.

“What is it?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“When we were in high school…”