Page 57 of Shackled

“We need something to neutralize the sting and toxins. There will be a first aid kit.”

I sit her on a stool in the kitchen and rummage through supplies, finding a small bottle of vinegar in the cabinet. “This will work. Put your leg out.”

She gasps as the vinegar makes contact. "Is it supposed to burn?"

"A little, but it should help," I assure her.

Tears well up in her eyes, but she stays strong. "Thank you, Lev."

I look at her, and I hate that she’s in pain. "I'm so sorry this happened. Let's get you situated. Some hydrocortisone will help.”

I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the living room and gently place her on the couch, propping her leg up. "I'll get some ice to reduce the swelling."

She gives me a weak smile. "You're really good at this, you know.”

I sigh. "I've had practice taking care of stubborn people."

As I apply the ice pack to her leg, she winces but then relaxes. "Thank you.”

I kiss her forehead. This is my job. I’m supposed to watch out for her.

Back in the room, she lies back with her foot elevated. "This is your fault," she says, but I can tell she doesn't really blame me. “If you didn’t throw me in the water…”

“If you weren’t a brat, I wouldn’t have had to throw you in.” I do feel guilty, though. "I didn't think there would jellyfish.”

"I guess you'll have to make it up to me," she says cheerfully.

"Seriously, how does that feel?" I ask, looking at her swollen ankle.

"I won't be running away from you anytime soon. I know you're devastated. But the good news is, I don't think I'm badly hurt. I'm fine. I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Let's go cook dinner."

I anchor my hands on my hips and glare at her. "I'll go make dinner. You're going to stay right here with that leg elevated."

"I can stand just fine," she snaps.

"You are so fucking stubborn!"

"It takes one to know one," she snaps back. "I don't like people serving me. I like to cook my own food."

"Well, you're just going to have to get used to it."

"Or what?" She challenges me. Here we go again.

"I'm going to tie you to that fucking couch." I glare at her, absolutely ready to do it.

Instead of defying me, she pouts a little, which is more effective than I expect. “Lev, I am not helpless."

"Finally, just a tiny bit. Isabella, you’re my wife. Can you just let me fucking take care of you for once?"

She stares at me and doesn't speak for long moments. "You want to take care of me?"

"It's a little different than always trying to tell you what to do, isn't it?" I say.

"I guess it is. But promise me this."

"Yeah?"

"If you get hurt, you're going to let me take care of you. This works both ways."

---