Page 33 of Undone

“I’m glad you decided to keep him.” He paused, then smiled—a small, effortless gesture that pulled at something inside me. His dimple flashed for a brief second.

“Well, no one claimed him… unless you count me.”

“Idefinitelycount you.” Dorian’s smile deepened as he scratched behind Walker’s ears. “It’s nice to finally meet you, buddy.”

He straightened up, glancing around the room, his eyes briefly skimming over the mess.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

I paused mid-motion and looked up at him. “I’ve got it covered.” I swallowed, then gave a half-smile.

He glanced at the box I was now neglecting, then back at me.

His lips pulled up at the corners. “You sure?”

“Yeah, you’ve helped enough today.”

He gave a slow nod, not quite satisfied, but he didn’t push it. I bent down to open the next box, but the edge of the cardboard caught my finger, and I let out a hiss, pulling my hand away instinctively.

“Shit,” I muttered, inspecting the small cut.

Before I could even think of grabbing something to clean it, Dorian was there, stepping closer. His hand reached out, taking my wrist with surprising care. I froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden closeness.

“That’s gonna need a bandage,” he said, his voice low as his thumb brushed over my skin. His touch was gentle, sending a shiver up my spine.

“It’s fine,” I said, trying to pull my wrist back, but he didn’t let go. “Just a paper cut.”

Dorian looked down at my hand and then back to me, his expression tender. “Better safe than sorry,” he said, his fingers still holding my wrist lightly. “Let me grab something for it. I think Trent left a first aid kit in the bathroom.” Without waiting for a response, he stepped away, disappearing into the other room.

I glanced down at my finger, the tiny red line staring back at me. I was thankful for the sting, a sharp distraction that pulled my focus from being in his proximity.

He returned a moment later, and moved without a word, taking a Band-Aid from the small kit in his hand. I opened my mouth to tell him I could handle it, but before I could get the words out, his fingers were already at my wrist again.

He unwrapped the bandage with careful, precise movements before gently taking my hand in his. I could feel the heat of his skin as he placed the bandage over the cut, his touch tender and steady.

“Really, I’m fine,” I said softly, trying to pull my hand back, but he still didn’t let go, didn’t respond, just smoothed the bandage into place.

He looked up at me from where he knelt beside me. His eyes were as captivating as the rest of him—deep, rich brown, holding something more beneath the surface.

Dotty’s voice cut through the silence as the door creaked open. “How’s it go?—”

I jerked back, my hand instinctively pulling away from his, heat rushing to my cheeks as Dotty’s eyes flashed between us.

Dorian stood, his expression shifting to neutral as he cleared his throat.

“Minor injury handled,” he said with a forced smile toward his sister. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Everything okay?” Dotty asked.

I flashed Dotty a quick smile. “Yeah, just a paper cut,” I said a little too quickly.

Dotty’s gaze flicked between Dorian and me, a crease forming between her brows. She didn’t press, though, and turned toward the door as Dorian stepped out.

“Have a good night,” he called, the door clicking softly behind him.

I stood there, taking in the scattered boxes around me. The room, a mess just hours ago, was starting to come together.

As the evening stretched on, I found myself grateful for Dotty’s company. We fell into a rhythm, chatting like no time had passed at all. She didn’t need to stay, but she did, diving into the mess with me without complaint, making jokes to keep things light as we unpacked and sorted. Her laughter cut through the quiet, and I realized how much I’d missed this—her presence, her voice, her ability to make everything feel normal again.

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