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“Whatever. If we’re going to be stuck there anyway, you’re helping me sort through boxes.”
And decide which memories were worth keeping and which could be discarded or sold to the highest bidder. “All right.”
He found oatmeal in the pantry she’d forgotten about, and made that, while she brewed coffee. Breakfast consumed, they got to tightening up her place as best they could. Sheets of rain slammed into them as soon as they stepped outside.
They made their way from window to window, fighting the wind to close the wooden covers over glass. He held them in place, and she latched down the bars that would keep them there. Furious at their efforts, the weather tore at their clothes and hair, whipping both against their skin.
Jonathan muttered athank youas they reached the second to last stop. He yanked the shutter, and the wind pushed back, jerking it from his hand and slicing the wood across his palm. “Fuck.” He pulled back, wiggling his fingers and willing the sting to go away.
“Let me see.” Bailey grasped his wrist.
“I’m fine. We need to get this done.”
“We have time. Don’t pull this macho bull with me... Ouch.”
He looked at the wound and was shocked at what he saw. The sharp sting wasn’t just a scratch. A deep gash gouged his palm, under the thumb, crimson welling up and being diluting by the rain.
“Come on.” She tugged him toward the front door.
“Two windows left. Let’s finish.”
She pursed her lips. “You need to bandage that.”
“And then we’ll come out here, the weather will soak through the gauze, and it’ll have to be re-wrapped once we’re done. The longer you argue, the more it bleeds.” Which he didn’t want. The pain was becoming a throb.
“Fine. But don’t bleed on my shutters.” The concern in her voice drowned out the sarcasm.
It was harder than Jonathan expected to do most of the heavy work with his left hand, but keeping the pressure off his right made it easier to hide the wince each time a stab of pain traveled down his arm. Maybe insisting they finish before he took care of the woundwasmacho bullshit.
He waited in the entryway when they finished, so he wouldn’t drip on her carpet, while Bailey grabbed gauze, tape, and disinfectant. She joined him again. A numb heat seared him at her tender touch when she examined the cut. She wiped away the excess mess and hissed. “This is deeper than I thought.”
“I’m fine.” He didn’t mind her worry, though. It was reassuring.
“All right. But if your hand turns green and falls off, I’m sayingI told you so.”
He laughed. “As is your right.” He ground his teeth while she slathered the cut with antibiotic salve, relaxing again when she wound the gauze around his hand.
And then she kept wrapping.
“I think you’ve got it covered,” he said.
“I guess. Let me grab a couple things, and we’ll head back to your place.”
His place.The notion felt foreign, but reality was sinking in. Nana didn’t live there anymore. Thunder rolled and boomed overhead, punctuating his thoughts. One more thing to decide. Sell the property? It wasn’t as if he was going to live there. He couldn’t wrap his brain around letting it go. When he was growing up, Nana’s was more like home than home was.
“All set.” Bailey joined him again, pulling him back to the now—a far more pleasant place to be, despite the weather.
* * * *
FORTUNATELY, THE SHUTTERSon Nana’s house pulled down easily and latched in place with minimal effort, so they avoided further injury. They found Lucifer cowering from the storm in the upstairs bathroom, made sure she had food, water, and attention, then let her hide again so they could get back to their sorting.
Once they settled in and started working, things went quickly. Several hours later, they’d gone through almost everything in the attic. The pain in Jonathan’s hand dulled, making it easier to ignore whenever he hit it at the wrong angle.
“Have you looked through these yet?” He nodded at a handful of boxes shoved in the corner. The dust on the floor around them was disturbed, but they weren’t sitting in any of the piles Bailey’d laid out.
She glanced up, then quickly turned back to the trinkets she was looking through. “No.”
The sharp word caught him off guard. “Do I dare?”
