Page 111 of Flipping the Script

“Weird day, weird week, weird month.”

“Weird summer,” he added.

“Say less.”

We fell silent, both of us staring into the fire.

The crackling of the wood mixed with the patter of rain against the windows, creating a calming atmosphere that had me zoning out, my mind blank as I let the flames hypnotize me.

I’d always loved watching fire. It didn’t matter if it was a fireplace, bonfire, or a candle. I wasn’t sure what that said about me, but fire soothed me.

Covertly, I snuck a look at Jesse. He was just as enthralled by the flames as me.

“I wish I had a fireplace,” he said softly.

“You do?” I asked, not sure he was even talking to me.

“Yeah. I like watching fires. My parents used to let Adam, Quinn, and me stay up late on clear nights so we could sit around the firepit and stargaze.” His voice was faraway and a bit sad. “My dad would sit with me and watch the fire die after everyone else went inside.”

“We should check the forecast,” I said, not sure what to do with the change in his energy.

“Yeah.” He sighed heavily. “My phone is still at the door, isn’t it?”

“I got it.”

Before he could protest, I was on his feet and retrieving his phone.

“Thanks.” He tapped on the screen as I flopped back down on the couch.

“What’s it saying?” I asked when he dropped his phone onto his chest with a disgruntled sigh.

“The rain isn’t going to stop for hours.” He tossed his phone onto the coffee table in front of us. “And it’s not looking good for the power either. There are outages all over the map and no timelines for when anything will be fixed.”

“Of course.” I flexed my hands a few times. They still felt a bit weird and stiff. Especially the one I’d cut on the stupid tire wrench thing. “Fucking awesome.”

Leaning over, he grabbed my wrist and angled my hand toward him.

“What are you?—”

“You’re hurt.” He held my wrist tighter.

“It’s fine,” I protested, but stopped trying to get free. “I’m fine.”

He examined the cut on my palm. “This doesn’t look fine.”

The wound wasn’t deep, but it wasn’t exactly superficial. It’d stopped bleeding, but the jagged line cutting through my skin was red and angry looking, and the sides were a bit swollen.

“How fast can an infection set in?” he asked. “Do you need to wash it out better?”

I shrugged. I hadn’t tended to it other than when we’d been in the shower. Hopefully shampoo was a good enough substitute for antiseptic or even just regular soap because I sure as hell wasn’t sticking my hand under ice water again, infection or not.

“Is this normal for you?”

“Is what normal for me? Being useless and getting hurt?” I asked, my defenses going up again at the reminder of how Jesse had saved me once again and witnessed my little freak-out.

“You’re not useless.” He tilted my hand toward the light to get a better look at my injury. “Shit happens. No point dwelling on it.”

His concern was unnerving, but caretaker mode was better than his grumpy one.

---