Page 58 of Just My Ex

And he always was.

Still carrying me, he starts joking about the video games we used to play, which morphs into talking about the laser tag we did with our friends on the weekends sometimes, when he happened to be in town, which morphs again to a story about a game he used to play with his platoon using a volleyball during their downtime that reminds me of life-sized Battleship.

I catch a glimpse of a new tattoo on his shoulder as his shirt is tugged down by having to carry me. I can’t make out what it is, but I want to trace it with my fingertip.

Badly.

He’s become quite chatty all the sudden, which is totally impressive for a guy who’s carrying a woman on a wild beach for at least a mile. I realize, when I can see the resort up ahead, that he’s been distracting me, the blessed man.

Without warning, he gives me a swift kiss on the forehead. It’s simple. Kind.

Is it so bad that I hope he does it again?

Chapter 22

Henry

Getting Quinn bandaged up is no easy task. I take her to Oakley since she’s the only one with medical training in the building. She’s getting her physical therapy degree, but while she’s in school, she’s been working here as a personal trainer.

Carrying Quinn to Oakley’s office is difficult, but mostly because I try to keep my mind in places other than the fact that the woman I love is in my arms. Her beautiful, precious body is in my arms.

Oakley’s eyes widen at the sight of Quinn’s shoulder, but like the professional she is, her voice stays calm as she directs me to the family-style bathroom in the resort gym. We get Quinn settled in a plastic chair we pull into the bathroom near the basin and lock the door so we have some privacy.

“Alrighty then, how did this happen?” Oakley’s gaze goes to Quinn’s and then back to mine again.

“If the stench of lakewater doesn’t clue you in, just know that I’m a klutz,” Quinn says with another laugh. “One minute I was walking just fine in the lake and the next minute, I was bloodying my shoulder along the rocks at the bottom.”

Oakley cringes. “I’ve slipped in that lake before, too. Mine was more embarrassing than anything.”

She snaps on rubber gloves and begins pulling items out of the first aid kit, like a large bottle of saline and a roll of gauze.

“Let’s work on the foot,” Oakley tells me. “That one is smaller and more straightforward, not nearly as dirty as the arm.” She directs me to gently apply pressure to Quinn’s shoulder.

She cleans the arc-shaped wound. “I don’t think this one needs stitches,” Oakley says as she places a gauze pad and athletic tape over it.

“Nice,” Quinn tells her. “It looks professionally done.”

Oakley and I help Quinn carefully remove her shirt and I force my eyes to go to the ceiling. It’s my beautiful ex in a sports bra—have mercy on my soul.

When Oakley begins to work on Quinn’s shoulder, she sighs. “There’s some gravel embedded in your skin, Quinn.” Oakley shares a look with me. “I’ll try to rinse them out, but I don’t know if I can remove all of them on my own.”

“I trust you,” Quinn offers, gazing at the wound again.

“Uh, thanks for the confidence but I haven’t done much first aid.”

Quinn hisses when Oakley pours the saline across the wound over the sink, causing Oakley to cringe. “I’m sorry,” she breathes but then starts in again. “If I can just get as much debris out of it as possible, we have a better chance of being able to bandage this up.”

Quinn grits her teeth, and a surge of pride overcomes me. “Keep going. I don’t want pieces of rock in my arm forever.” She looks at the wound and then scowls. The bleeding has slowed, but it’s still a gnarly injury.

I grab Quinn’s other hand, “Just look at me. I got you,” I tell her.

I’m lost in her still-damp hair matted to her neck and her hazel eyes. Every time there’s a twinge of pain there, I squeeze her hand, rubbing my thumb over her smooth skin.

Emotions tumble through me. I know there was an element of adrenaline early on when she disappeared in the water. And it lasted the whole time I was carrying her. When someone you care about gets injured like this, all you can think about is helping them to safety.

But there’s more to it than that. Because right now, holding her hand, reassuring her, reminds me a little bit of when she gave birth to Navie. She was strong then, just as she is now.

I didn’t know then that we would break apart. Things were already strained between us since I’d missed so much of the pregnancy because of work. But then, in that moment, we were sealed as one. We’d become parents of the most perfect baby girl I’d ever seen. Nothing could have torn us apart.

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