Page 28 of The Seascape Between Us

“For god’s sake, I don’t give a shit about the jacket, and I’m sure as hell not going to make youreplaceit. Now, give me your arm.”

“Fine,” I said and held out my arm. The wound gaped, and a steady stream of blood smeared with dirt over my skin. It reallydidlook bad.

Grey carefully wrapped his jacket tightly around my arm, his touch gentle despite the deep scowl etched across his face. His mouth pressed into a thin, tight line. It was strange having someone do this for me, take care of me. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had fussed over me this much. But I was fairly certain it was before Ramona went into the convalescence home, maybe before my mother died. Stranger still was that it was Grey, of all people. The urge to jerk back from his touch was nearly as overwhelming as the urge to sink into it, to lean closer, close my eyes, and let my forehead rest on his shoulder.

Grey finished up wrapping his jacket around my forearm a few times until I looked as if I could train attack dogs, and then he leaned back while I tucked my arm into my chest.

“Can you stand?” He held out his hand to me.

“I think so,” I told him, but still took his hand with my good one and let him haul me up to my feet. I braced myself for the wave of dizziness that never came. That was a relief. Maybe that crack to the skull wasn’t as bad as I feared.

Grey took hold of my elbow and steered me out of the cramped bathroom. “Okay, hospital now.”

He guided me out of the hotel room. The cool breeze off the water was a welcome relief after the stuffy heat in the room.

“It’s not that bad. I can just—”

“Nope! No arguing. Hospital, or Iwillmake you pay for my jacket.”

“I think we should go back to my place in Portland.”

At Grey’s suggestion, my insides instantly tightened. I looked over at him from where I’d been staring out the passenger window as Grey steered out of the hospital parking lot and shot him an incredulous look. Not that he noticed. He wasn’t lookingat me. He kept his unreadable expression focused on the road through the windshield.

“What…? Why?” I stuttered.

“So, you can rest. The doctor said you probably have a concussion, and you need to take it easy.”

I rolled my eyes, a little of the tension gripping me releasing. “That’snotat all what the doctor said. He said a concussion was unlikely, but I should rest for the next twenty-four hours.”

Grey snorted. “Nice try. He said you shouldn’t bealonefor the next twenty-four hours and that you should rest for the next few days.”

I tried not to smirk. Since he’d driven me to the hospital, Grey had been hovering over me like an overprotective parent. It might have been funny if it wasn’t so disconcerting.

Grey had, of course, insisted on driving us to Saltwater Cove’s hospital in his Audi, making the trip in record time. Once inside, we didn’t have to wait long in the Emergency waiting room—whether because of the blood still oozing from the wound on my arm or Grey nagging the nurse behind the counter, asking how much longer until we saw a doctor every five minutes. Either was a strong possibility.

Once in the examination room, Grey hovered nearby, pointedly ignoring my irritated scowl.

“Definitely going to need some stitches,” the doctor had said after I unwound Grey’s jacket from my arm.

“I told you,” Grey said to me, then turned to the doctor. “He should probably have a tetanus shot, too. He was working at a construction site, tearing apart a bathroom.”

The doctor’s mouth quirked, and he pushed his wireless glasses up his nose. He was probably my age or a little younger than me, with a narrow face and close-set eyes. His blond hair fell in messy waves, brushing his collar. “I think we can arrange that.”

“And he hit his head against the wall when he fell. I heard it.”

The doctor frowned. “Where?”

“I’m fine,” I stated, glaring at Grey and hoping he’d sit down in one of the molded plastic chairs against the far wall and shut the hell up. The more things he pointed out, the longer we’d be stuck there, and my head was fine. It barely hurt, just feeling a little tight and bruised, but no big deal.

“It’s at the back.” Grey’s fingers gently cupped either side of my head, tipping it forward. I squeezed my eyes closed and held myself against the shiver his touch sent rolling through me.

The doctor gingerly brushed his fingers over my skull until they grazed a tender area, and I winced.

“That’s it,” the doctor said. “You’ve got quite a lump. Do you have a headache?”

The doctor stepped back, and Grey let go of my head. I opened my eyes and straightened. “Not really. It feels bruised more than anything else.”

“No feeling of pressure in your head?”

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