Page 31 of Forget Me Not

Then it starts gushing blood.

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, holding my hand over the wound. Unfortunately, it’s bleeding too much for it to really do anything.

Way to go, Nova. Just had to make yourself look even more incompetent after you just ran your mouth about being a big girl.

Reid steps further into the room, reaching for my hand.

“Let me see.”

I jerk my hand back from him like a child because well . . . I refuse to admit defeat.

Reid fixes me with a bored stare, and takes it anyway, peeling my fingers away to see the blood. Unfortunately, for me, tears well in my eyes because it actually really does hurt, even if I don’t want to admit that to him.

He takes a towel, wiping away the blood to inspect the slice in my hand as if he does this every day. Hell, with him, he probably does. The man’s not saint and I’d be willing to bet there’s more than a few dark secrets in Reid’s past he’d rather never tell a soul.

Kind of like mine.

“Tears?” he remarks, a sudden bite in his voice that wasn’t there before. “Come on, you’re better than that.”

“I’m not crying,” I murmur, trying to force them back. They don’t listen and one slips down my cheek. Reid watches its path indifferently before it falls to my shirt, staining the gray cotton.

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Nova—”

“If you go out there, everyone’s going to come in here and remind me why I should just ask you for help.”

I don’t know why I admit that to him, but as soon as I do, I feel like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulder.

“I’ll just get a bandage.”

“You need stitches. You’re going to have a scar.”

“I already have plenty of those,” I argue.

I wipe another traitorous tear with the back of my hand as it slides down my cheek and Reid shakes his head disapprovingly.

“You know, if you’re just going to bitch at me for crying when something hurts, you can leave. I’ll do it on my own.”

“Yeah?” he counters, following me to the bathroom when I step inside to wash the blood away. The sinks on the third floor are terrible and only a small stream of water comes out, but I use it anyway, tetanus from rusty pipes and all. Who said I’m not tough? “How so?”

“I’ll manage,” I snap, scrubbing at the still very bloody cut on my hand. The water doesn’t stop the bright red from staining my fingers anymore than I can stop the hum in my body when Reid’s around.

“Nova.” He’s much closer now and I jump when I chance a peek at the mirror and find him right behind me, watching me over the top of my head. “Let me see,” he murmurs, voice softer this time than I’ve ever heard it.

Something in me melts . . . not a lot, but enough for my stomach to flip and my heart to do this weird little flutter.

He’s never looked at me like this before. In fact, no one has.

Like he’s looking at me and really seeing me. No, seeing through me to the scared and damaged girl inside.

And that’s fucking terrifying.

He moves slowly, as if he thinks I’m going to run from him again, and takes my hand, pressing a light finger over the cut. I wince, but I don’t move. He’s never been this gentle with me before. Not even when he kissed me against the side of my cottage.

“Stay here. I’ll go get the first aid kit.”

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