Page 29 of Kind of a Bad Idea

She’s also hurt…

I curse beneath my breath, my awareness of everything but her pain fading as I see the raw, savaged flesh on her inner thighs.

“It’s not that bad,” she says in a tight voice, her breath hissing out as I gently grip the skin beneath the wound on her left side. “Don’t touch it.”

“I’m not touching it,” I murmur. “I’m just trying to see how far back it goes.”

“Far,” she says, “it goes back far. I said, don’t touch it.”

“I’m not, baby, I promise,” I say, the word out of my mouth before I can think better of it. I glance up quickly, hoping maybe Binx didn’t notice, but her expression makes it clear I didn’t get so lucky.

She looks…stricken, like my words are salt in her wound.

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling like an absolute piece of shit. I promised myself after the idiotic way I behaved in the mud that I’d get control of myself. “Bad habit. The only person I’m used to comforting when they’re hurt is Sprout and…she’s my baby.”

“She is,” Binx agrees with a sad little nod that does nothing to banish the shame worming through my chest. “It’s fine. I know you don’t mean it.”

But I do mean it. I mean it with everything in me. But at least I have the self-control not to say that part out loud.

“This is bad, Binx,” I say instead, chewing on my bottom lip for a second. “We need to get it clean, but I’m hesitant to use the alcohol swab. I think we’d be better off with plain old soap and warm water for this.”

“But we can’t get to soap and warm water, right?” she asks.

“There’s soap at the cabin, but no warm water. I haven’t had the chance to replace the old hot water heater, and we’re still another hour or so away. I’d prefer to get this clean now, before I bandage it.”

She nods. “Yeah, me, too. I don’t want any infectious critters trapped under my bandage. Just give me the alcohol swab, I can clean it.”

I arch a dubious brow. “Are you sure? It always hurts more to hurt yourself. I had to stich up a gash in my leg one time, when I took a fall off a cliff and was too far from civilization to get to the ER in time. It was fucking miserable.”

She winces. “Ow. That sounds horrific. Did you cry?”

“Yeah,” I say. “And I almost passed out. Twice.”

“Shit.” She wrinkles her nose. “I mean, this obviously isn’t as bad as a wound like that, but?—”

“It’s pretty bad,” I cut in, exhaling as I glance down at the twin red wounds on either side of her thighs. They’re oozing a bit of blood and look bruised in the middle. “I’m no doctor, but they look like third-or-fourth-degree abrasions. I can’t believe you kept walking all this time without stopping me sooner.” Another wave of shame curdles my stomach. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t ask for a break.”

“No, it isn’t your fault,” she says, her tone softer than it’s been in hours. “It’s mine. I felt stupid. I know these pants are a little too tight and hold water for way too long, but I wore them anyway. I thought it would be okay, since the rain was supposed to pass, and I was going to be in a van all morning. Then, once I realized how bad it was, I was kind of afraid to look. I mean, it’s not like I can stop walking. We have to get to the cabin. The only thing worse than sleeping in a cabin with no way to call for help is sleeping out in the middle of the woods with no way to call for help.”

I give her leg a gentle squeeze, right below the knee. “Pride’s a bitch.”

Her lips twitch up. “Yeah, it is.”

“I know, I’ve been there,” I say. “But we’ll get this bandaged up and you can borrow something to wear. I brought an extra pair of pants. I usually don’t for climbing trips, but since I ripped the ass out of a pair on our last climbing trip, I figured, I should have a backup.”

Her smile widens. “I’ll never forget those black pants giving way to rainbow unicorn boxer briefs.”

“They were a?—”

“Gift from Sprout,” she finishes for me with a soft laugh. “I know, I know. But it was still funny. It’s sweet that you actually wear them. Most dads wouldn’t.”

“I’m not most dads,” I say, letting the words serve as a reminder of the kind of man I want to be—the kind who doesn’t get his daughter’s hopes up about a relationship that’s never going to happen.

And the type who doesn’t ground her for the next decade for pulling a stunt like this. After all, as long as Binx and I both get out of here in one piece, without any irreversible mistakes being made, it’ll all be okay.

Though, speaking of irreversible mistakes…

“These might scar,” I tell her as I clean my hands as best I can with one alcohol wipe. “Hopefully they’ll stop bleeding and scab over once the irritation stops, but the wounds are deep.”

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