Page 30 of Protect

“Don’t try to change positions too quickly, the smallest touch can be excruciating,” she adds as she moves back to her computer.

“No shit.” I chuckle. She reaches into the drawer under the computer and pulls out a little packet of pills. Then clicks away, adding something into my file, I assume.

“How do you do this?” I blurt out without thinking. Violette’s eyes snap to mine as she tears open the packet.

“Nursing in general?” She pours the pills into a little clear cup. “You have some water over there? This will help, it’s an anti-inflammatory,” she adds, moving back toward me.

I nod and try to reach over to my empty cup without flinching. I fail. She’s right, any movement right now is no fun.

Violette hurries to my side and lifts the cup, filling it with fresh water and passing it to me, I reach my good arm out and take it from her, doing my best to breathe her in.

“Yes, nursing, but the burn unit specifically,” I add, hoping I didn’t just open Pandora’s box for her.

To my surprise, she doesn’t tell me I’m being too personal. She just shrugs and says something so honest it takes me aback.

“I do it the same way you still fight fires. If we don’t, it’s like Jacob died for nothing, and I just can’t live with that, I won’t live with that.”

I blow out a breath with the sound of his name. It’s just not spoken out loud all that much anymore.

“Fair enough.” I nod. I bide my time and take my pills while she washes her hands and puts on a fresh pair of gloves.

Violette moves with the kind of grace she’s always had, only now she’s more confident. She’s changed a lot. She’s been someone’s wife. She’s a mother, and I can’t pinpoint why but I get the feeling she’s been through a lot. What little interaction I’ve had with her tells me the woman she’s turned into is really something. I try to imagine her as a mom. I’d bet my life she’s an incredible one. If she can dislike me and still treat me like she genuinely cares about my well-being, she’s definitely a great nurse too.

I try to keep my breathing steady while I wait. Contrary to popular belief, the last fucking thing I want is for Violette to see me at my weakest and help me apply ointment to my skin, or what’s left of it. Yet when she offers me a small smile and sits down beside me, I’m glad she’s here. I want to watch the way the light hits her hazel eyes, and the way the smattering of freckles that dust the bridge of her nose are only visible when she’s this close. I want to breathe in the way her hair smells as she leans down to start her work.

Fuck. I scrub my scruffy jaw to get my shit together. This woman has me over a barrel, and I’ve only known she’s been back in town for a week and a half.

Violette begins to soak my dressings in room temperature saline water to make it easier to get them off, then with patient expertise, she pulls back the dressings on my thigh workingcarefully but intentionally. “Let me know if it hurts too much, okay? We can do it in spurts.”

“Yeah.” I nod.

I keep my eyes on her face, deep in concentration and ignore the burn. Partly so I don’t have to look at my leg blistered and weeping, and partly because she is just a much better view. Once the dressings are off, she stands for a moment and takes her gloves off, picking up a phone from her cart. She snaps a few photos, then puts the phone back.

“What’s your pain level on a scale of one to ten?” she asks as she makes her way to the sink to re-wash.

“Six,” I say honestly. It’s not terrible—as long as I’m on drugs and I don’t move.

Violette puts a fresh pair of gloves on and makes her way back to my bedside. What I assume is her own phone dings in her pocket as she does. She ignores it as she starts to clean my wounds. I grit my teeth as she works. Her phone dings again, once, twice, three times. Still, she ignores it.

“Maybe important?” I ask, curious to know who is texting her.

“It’s just my ex,” she says, not losing her concentration as she cleans.

“Ahh,” I say. “Tom?” I smirk. That gets her attention. She pauses her work.

“Troy.” She smirks but doesn’t look at me.

“Right, right,” I say as her eyes focus on the gory sight of my thigh.

“How do you know it’s him?” I ask, curious again.

“I know when he texts. He has his own special message tone,” she says, grabbing a tube of burn ointment and beginning to apply it. “In case anything goes wrong with Hollie when she’s with him, I know it’s worth checking.”

I nod as she grazes one of my burns just enough to send a searing shockwave through my body.

“Fuck,” I bite out. Her eyes flit to mine and her brow furrows a little.

“Sorry, do you need to take a break or should we keep going?”

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