Page 145 of Darling Wildfire
I saw her eyes rove over my body, taking in the other scars and the brand on my chest.
“Military?” She asked, doing another stitch.
“Retired,” I said.
“Those don’t look retirement issued,” she grumbled.
“You don’t want to know,” Nyx said.
He’d hopped up on thecounter near the sink, swiping a muffin. “Do you live here alone?”
“That’s literally the worst question to ask a woman,” she said dryly. “And besides, don’t you already know that answer? You’ve been spying on me for a few days at least.”
“Touche,” Nyx said.
Atlas emerged from the living room on the other side of the kitchen.
“Who’s the Marine in the pictures?” He asked. I watched her stiffen beside me. She made a few more stitches, and I watched her lip tremble.
“My husband,” she said.
“Where is he?” Atlas demanded.
“Not here,” she said shortly.
“What does that mean?” Atlas continued aggressively.
“Come on, man,” Nyx said.
“No, I need to know if some Marine is going to bust through that door suddenly,” Atlas insisted.
“He’s deployed,” she said louder.
“He left you here alone?” Atlas continued. “In the middle of nowhere?”
“Jesus, At—” Nyx started.
“Knock it off,” I barked. “He hasn’t been home in some time—she’s telling the truth. Just leave it alone.”
The kitchen settled into silence as she continued her stitching. Her lower lip trembled but her hands stayed steady. Twenty stitches later, she snipped the thread with a pair of small scissors and grabbed a bandage, pressing it firmly against my side. She moved to my bicep to check the bullet wound but I knew it was a graze before she even said anything.
“This one just needs a bandage,” she muttered.
A moment later, she stepped aside.
“Done,” she said.
“Thank you,” I met her gaze, and she nodded before turning to the sink to wash away the blood.
“Macy,” I got off the counter and stood behind her, waiting for her to turn around. When she did, she pressed herself back against the sink but met my gaze solidly with her own. “We need your help. If we could clean up, refuel and get a ride into town, we’ll be out of your hair.”
She looked around the kitchen at us, presumably seeing if her instincts told her she could trust us to keep to our word.
“You’ll just take it, even if I say no,” she grumbled.
“Yes, but we won’t hurt you either way,” I said. “You have my word on that.”
“Fine, in the morning I’ll drive you into town,” she sighed. “You can use thebathroom down the hall.”
