Page 4 of Searching Blind

She growled softly in annoyance. “Why do you make everything sound so simple?”

“It’s because things usually are. Now, are you going to stitch me up or let me bleed to death?”

chapter

two

Lucy huffed out a laugh. “You’re not bleeding to death.”

A smile flitted over his lips. “Good to know. But I’d still prefer not to be bleeding at all.”

“Okay.” She opened the sterile needle with shaking hands and told herself to breathe. She had seen worse injuries and stitched up nastier wounds. But somehow, this was different. This was Sawyer. He was different. Not just a random hiker in distress, but a friend, a familiar face. A man who had once saved her life, who had been her rock in her darkest hour. And now, as he sat there, smiling despite the pain, it was her turn to be his rock.

“I’ll do my best.” She poised the needle at the edge of the wound and swallowed hard. It was suddenly difficult to breathe. To think.

“You always do,” Sawyer said quietly.

When she didn’t move, he reached out and found her hand again, gripping it like he had when she was trapped in that dark cave, freezing and bleeding out. Like he had in the cold hospital room where she’d spent what felt like an eternity after her rescue.

His touch sent a shiver up her spine despite the summer heat that was beginning to seep through the cracks in the shattered windows of the ranger station. She looked at him, his pale blue eye focused on a point over her shoulder, his face ashen against the grit and grime that smeared his cheeks.

He grinned. “Try not to scar my handsome face. It’s all I got going for me.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” she said, though there was no real heat behind it. Her hands were steady now. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everyone’s gazes on her, then pressed the sharp point to his skin.

The first stitch made him hiss in pain, and Lucy flinched, but she didn’t stop. The cut was deep and ragged, and if they didn’t close it, infection could set in. She worked fast, making each stitch as small and precise as possible to minimize scarring.

Sawyer remained silent throughout the procedure, his hand gripping Zelda’s harness so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The dog whined softly and laid her head on his lap, offering what comfort she could.

By the time Lucy was finished, beads of sweat dotted her forehead, and her shoulders ached from the tension. She cut the thread and removed her gloves, studying her handiwork.

“Okay,” she said finally, pulling back. “All done.”

Sawyer let out a long breath, his body visibly sagging. “That wasn’t so bad.”

She rolled her eyes. Men and their bravado. But she knew he was hurting. It was in every line of his face, etched in the tight set of his jaw. Yet he managed a weak smirk, an attempt to keep up the facade. It was so Sawyer of him.

Standing, she moved over to their makeshift first-aid station and grabbed a bottle of water, two painkillers, and a thin blanket. She returned to his side, pushing the pills into his hand. “Take these, and drink plenty of water.”

He tried to give them back. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not a superhero, Sawyer. Take the damn pills.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. Bossy,” he muttered and tossed the pills into his mouth.

Lucy watched as he swallowed them with a grimace, then reached out and gently touched his cheek, turning his face toward her to inspect the stitches one last time. Sawyer didn’t shy away from her touch. Instead, he leaned into it, a soft sigh escaping him.

And she felt it. The sparks. The heat that had been simmering beneath the surface since their first meeting. She knew it was why he’d disappeared from her life as soon as she was well enough to leave the hospital. He was afraid of it, this thing between them. Afraid of the vulnerability it demanded. In truth, so was she, which was why she never reached out to him after he left. She’d made some really horrible decisions regarding men in the past, and she had promised herself she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

But Sawyer is different.

She ignored the faint whisper of her heart and withdrew her hand quickly, not trusting herself around him anymore.

“Get some rest.” Her voice came out raspy with emotion, and she cleared her throat as she draped the blanket over him. His hands caught hers before she could pull away, a simple gesture that sent another bolt of electricity through her veins.

“Don’t go,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against her knuckles in an achingly tender motion.

Lucy hesitated, torn between her need to check on the others and the warmth radiating from Sawyer’s touch. She looked at him again, his handsome face pale but calm despite the pain he must be in. His quiet strength was one of the many things she admired about him.

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