Page 99 of The Heart

“I don’t know, I can’t see it. I have to take off your pants.” I know for a fact he’s working on some sort of snarky remark to that, so I shoot him a glare before he can utter it. He chuckles, then groans from the motion. I roll my eyes.

Because if I didn’t, I would be in fucking tears right now.

This man I’ve grown to care about is hurt, and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do about it. The guys only taught me so much about first aid, and I’ve never had to put any of that knowledge to practice in a real-life scenario.

Please be okay. Please be fucking okay.

I push his shirt up as high as it will go, and as pretty as his abs are, I don’t like what I’m seeing. He’s breathing much too quickly. I frantically unbutton his pants, and carefully yank down the zipper.Holy fuck.

“Colton!Fuck!Do you ever wear underwear?” I lecture.

“Not if I can help it.” I don’t have to look up to know he’s smirking. I can hear it from here.

I shake my head, focusing on the task at hand. I remove his shoes, then try to ignore the pained sounds he makes when I peel the blood-soaked jeans off him, revealing the wound.

And… everything else.

He’s working on steadying his breathing, an arm draped over his eyes. And I’m too fucking worried about him to even think about the massive distraction between us, but I quickly pull off my sweater and toss it over his dick all the same. I use the sleeve of it to carefully start clearing away the blood.

I nearly cry with relief when I see that the gaping wound, although bad, is surface level. Which means there isn’t a bullet buried in there somewhere.

“Leena, you’re scaring me. How bad is it?” Colton asks.

“I think we might have matching scars after this, Colt. The bullet went all the way through. I just have to stop the bleeding, so stay with me, okay? Because I don’t know how to fly a fucking helicopter.”

He stills, realizing the severity of our situation. When we reach wherever the autopilot is taking us, he better be fucking awake to land this thing.

“Trauma kit’s under the seat.” He nods toward it.

I place the fabric over where the blood is seeping out, then hold his palm against it, forcing him to put pressure on the wound. He winces, and I don’t miss how his hand is shaking.

“You need a few stitches. I don’t know if it can wait,” I tell him warily.

“Do you… know how to suture?” He seems equally concerned.

“The guys made me practice… on a piece of pork.” I cringe.

“Oh great. I’m saved,” he huffs out.

“Maybe I can just butterfly it, then when we land, Lu and Seb can–”

“Leena,” he says, his thumb brushing the hand I still have on top of his. I watch the motion for a moment and when my eyes find his, he smiles wearily. “I trust you.”

I quickly avert my eyes. I can’t smile, not when he’s hurt.

I pull my hand away and quickly retrieve the kit, returning to Colton’s side to dig through it.

“All I see is Tylenol. You don’t have anything stronger?” I ask.

“I don’t want anything stronger, we can’t risk me passing out. But if I do, call the guys. One of them can talk you through how to engage the auto-landing, okay?”

“Colton, I’m scared,” I say, leaning over so I can see him better. “I don’t want to hurt you.” My tears finally fall, because he’s already in pain, and I’m about to make it so much worse. I know I have to do this, but I don’t want to.

“I know. I’ll be okay. And this would’ve ended a lot differently if you didn’t step in, you know that, right?”

The gratitude in his green eyes, and the realization that he’s right, has me crying again.

“No more tears,” he whispers. “I need you to stitch me up so you can tell me where in the fuck you learned how to shoot an AK like that. Can you do that for me?”

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