Page 13 of Perilous Healing

“Bianca!” Eloise screams and rushes toward me. She’s wearing cartoon dog pajamas, her eyes red and full of tears. The room is dimly lit with a lantern since we lost power a few hours ago, and there’s a stack of children’s books on the coffee table.

“Hey, I’m good.”

“You’re hurt. Uncle Lassy, is she going to be okay?”

He sets me on the couch. “She’ll be fine. I’ll get the first aid kit.” After setting me down, he heads down the hall. Eloise grabs a blanket and tucks against my side.

“I’ll be perfectly fine, kid, I promise.”

She sniffles. “It’s so loud.”

“I know, honey.” I wrap an arm around her and press a kiss to the top of her head. I’m soaking wet, but she doesn’t seem to mind, and neither do I. Truthfully, the closeness brings me more peace than I’ve had all night.

Which is insane, given the roof is literally caved in over my living room.

I glance up, grateful that the damage seems to be isolated to my half of the duplex.

Silas comes back down the hallway, still wearing his soaking wet clothes, and kneels in front of me.

“I can do it.”

“You can’t move,” he whispers.

“I can—” But then I glance down at Eloise, who has managed to fall sound asleep in the last sixty seconds. “Oh.”

“I’ve been trying to get her to sleep all night.” He lifts the blanket just enough to get a look at my leg, then proceeds to grip the tattered sides of my pantleg, and tear it away from the injury. “She’s been up since the power went out.” He studies my leg, so I take a moment to study him. Silas Williamson is stunning in his own right. Masculine, strong, his jaw sharp. The man commands attention when he walks in the room, even without trying.

I clear my throat. “How does it look?”

“Not too bad. Looks more surface.” He opens a bottle of rubbing alcohol, then places a clean towel beneath my leg and pours the liquid onto the open cut.

I hiss through my teeth, doing my best not to make any noise or jarring movements that might wake Eloise up. Silas doesn’t look up at me as he finishes cleaning, then wraps my leg in clean gauze and stands.

I watch him as he walks away, noting the way the muscles of his shoulders bunch as he moves. The man walks like a warrior. Like he’s always one breath away from running into battle.

Outside, the storm rages on, but it’s nothing compared to the one inside of me.

To keep myself from continuing to stare, I close my eyes and lean back, focusing only on Eloise’s soft breathing and the sound of the storm.

It’s a funny thing, but I don’t feel nearly as suffocated in Silas’s living room as I did in my own. Whether it’s the man or exhaustion making me feel at peace, I’m not sure, but for the first time since the storm started, I feel the gentle fingers of exhaustion pulling me under, and I let them take me away from here.

Away from my past.

From the storm.

And from feelings better left buried six feet under.

Chapter5

Silas

She’s sleeping on my couch.

Looking absolutely stunning as she’s cuddled next to my niece.

I stand at the kitchen counter, staring at them in the dim light of a lantern, as the storm dies down outside. They both look so peaceful, so utterly and completely quiet, and it infuriates me. Mainly because when I came back out and realized that Bianca had fallen asleep, I felt a bit of relief seeing her sitting there, knowing she was safe.

Which is ridiculous.

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