Page 12 of The Bro Date
I don’t listen, missing the last step and rolling my ankle like a baby giraffe before falling to the ground.
“Shit!” I cry out, rough concrete tearing a hole in my khakis and scraping my knee.
Sonofabitch.
“Are you hurt?” Shane squats down next to me, his dark eyes slowly scanning my body for injuries and landing on my knee. “Let me see.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head no, and hoping I can wake up from this nightmare of an evening. Rough fingers encircle my wrist, gently removing the hand covering my knee. I hiss in pain when I open my eyes and see the damage.
Ouch.
“I’ve got a first aid kit in the back of my truck. Let’s get you cleaned up,” Shane says calmly.
Without asking if I can walk, he easily scoops me up, carrying my pathetic ass the rest of the way to his truck.
“I’m sorry you clocked out early for this shitshow,” I mutter, shamelessly leaning my head against his hard pec and breathing in his familiar, calming scent.
Shane pauses, staring down at me for a moment, his intense gaze analyzing my face. “Work doesn’t matter,” he grumbles. “Youmatter.”
“Shane . . .”
Words elude me because everything Iwantto say would probably scare him away.
He carries me the rest of the way to his truck, opening the door and setting me in the seat sideways. “Be right back.”
I nod, closing my eyes and resting my temple against the headrest. My knee stings and aches, so I focus on my breathing instead of the pain.
Shane comes back with what looks like a small tackle box, opening up a first aid kit instead. He pulls out a little spray bottle, and I see the word “antiseptic” on the side, immediately knowing this is going to hurt like a bitch.
“Do you want to keep these pants?” he suddenly asks, catching me off guard.
“No?”
Shane grabs hold of the hole in my khakis with two hands and yanks, carefully ripping it farther to expose my knee without having to take my pants off in my parents’ driveway.
“This is going to hurt,” he informs me two seconds before spraying the antiseptic directly on my scrape.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Sonofabitch motherfucker!” I holler like a complete heathen, gripping the sides of the seat for my life.
It feels like my knee is on fire, and someone tried to put it out with battery acid. I blink slowly, sweat beading on the back of my neck like I’m seconds away from passing out. I’m a complete baby when it comes to pain.
“Stay with me,” Shane murmurs, his voice sounding muffled and far away. He squats down in front of me and blows on my knee, cool breath washing over my skin and soothing the burn.
“Better?” he asks, peering up at me from the ground.
I nod, mumbling athank you.
Before I know it, I’m all bandaged up and buckled in. I lean back against the headrest and close my eyes, knowing I’m safe whenever I’m with Shane.
“What would I do without you?” I whisper, unsure if I even said the words aloud, or if they stayed inside my head where they belong.
“Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” Shane replies, and despite the burning pain in my knee and the emotional trauma from dinner, I smile.
I sure hope that’s true.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHANE
