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The nurse brought another cold pack and set it beside him.

“Has anyone put anything on the split?” I asked.

Chief shook his head.

She went back to the cabinet.

Sadie leaned against the wall while I washed my hands at the little sink. When I turned around, Chief was watching the doorway instead of reaching for the ice.

I picked up the cloth.

“Here,” I said.

He looked at me.

I touched it gently to his upper lip.

His eyes closed for a second.

“Too much?”

He shook his head again, barely.

I eased the pressure anyway.

The nurse went to answer the telephone. Sadie took the empty chair beside the desk and pulled a book out of her bag.

For once, she didn’t say anything.

Chief held the other cold pack against his cheek.

I stood between his knees because there wasn’t much room anywhere else.

He could have taken the ice from me. He had two perfectly functional hands.

He didn’t.

He tipped his head back to look directly at me.

I looked at the cloth instead.

Being angry with him was useful. It gave my hands something to do besides shake.

“Does it hurt to talk?” I asked.

“A little.”

That was probably the equivalent of somebody else saying a lot.

I lowered the ice enough to check his lip. The cut looked small, but the swelling around it made me feel sick all over again.

“You could’ve had a tooth knocked out.”

“Still got them.”

He wasn’t smiling.

I was grateful for that. I couldn’t have handled him making light of it yet.