Page 105 of We Redeemed the Rain

“Seewhat?” She shoved her fists into her back pockets.

“Yourhands.”

“My hands are fine.”

“Every morning you cuddle with that coffee cup like it’s the only thing standin’ between you and hypothermia.Letme see.”

Her guard melted a little when she realized I’d cornered her. “It’s really okay. I have a little blister. No big deal.”

She stepped away, but I lurched behind her, catching her forearm. Her fist popped out of that pocket and she gave a tiny yelp when I spun her around. I belatedly realized the innocent spin probably hurt her somewhere else. I’d yelp if someone grabbed my arm right now, too. I whispered a patheticsorryand peered at her closed fist stuck in my grasp.

A defiant flash lit in her eyes, and I fought the urge to laugh. Stifling a smile, I chided her. “This ain’t the time to be stubborn. If you’ve got an open wound, I need to treat it.”

Her gaze darted away.

“Bea.”

She hesitated.

“Come on.”

“Iwantedto help you, Tag.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want you to see it and freak out or something.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Please don’t feel bad.”

“Openyour hand.”

She lifted her other and slowly uncurled all ten fingers. Swollen and popped blisters dotted the palms of her hands and the soft spots across her fingers. Red, raw skin was exposed where layers had peeled away. Using her hands at all would be excruciating. I took a deep, steadying breath and ran a hand through my hair.

I promised her I wouldn’t freak out—whydid I promise her that?

“They look awful.” I nodded toward the counter top. “Lay your hands flat, and I’ll put something on ‘em.”

She obeyed, and I rifled through the cabinet,mentally kicking myself. Retrieving a tube of ointment, I made my way back over and uncapped it.

“I can do it myself?—”

“Hush.” I mimicked her from the night before. “Let me take care ofyou.”

She glanced up at my face, eyes round and seeking. I wished I could somehow know exactly how those eyes saw the world. How they saw me. Maybe I didn’t want to know.

Bea would never understand what her simple actions last night meant to me. I’d spent every spare moment between then and now thinking about her stooping to take off my muddy boots. She shouldn’t have…but she did. And it pushed my heart over a ledge.

I leaned close, silently and gently tapping cream onto her blisters. Her fingers reflexively jerked from the pain.

I whispered, “I’m so sorry, Bea. It’s been one disaster after another since you got here. You should be restin’ like you intended.”

“Tag.” Her bright smile made me feel worse. “I am happy to be here. I think it’s cool I ended up at Meadowbrook when you needed someone.”

“You keep getting hurt.”

“So what! I got a little burn?—”

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