Page 43 of The Disputed Legacy
“I don’t think there’s enough room for all three of us in here,” he replied, shooting him a slight smile.
“Maybe get some ice bags ready,” I suggested, opening my eyes wide at the redness of the swollen skin where Saul had been shot.
Oscar left, and I furrowed my brow at the gash on Saul’s flesh. In any other circumstances, seeing Saul shirtless would’ve stunned me silent. Like this, seeing the evidence of his gunshot wound and the cuts from the glass, desire was on the backburner and not controlling me at all.
“Saul, this is bad.”
“No. It’s not.”
“You were shot and it’s bleeding so much.”
“It’s not that bad,” he argued mildly, raising his arm to give me a better angle to wipe off the blood that still seeped out.
I went still, raising my gaze to him.
“No cops.”
I couldn’t let go of how he’d said that.
This isn’t the first time he’s dealt with this. He’s been shot before.The realization sobered me, making me wonder just how dangerous of a man he was. Looking lower, I dismissed the muscles and chiseled physique he couldn’t hide without his suit jacket or shirt on. I didn’t slow my study to admire those tattoos on his tanned, taut skin, either.
Scars.
He had more than a few, and I grew nervous and curious about just what kind of a man I’d let into my home.
Because this was Saul and he’d given himself plenty of experience of watching me, I wasn’t surprised when he noticed the shift in my mood.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said, holding on to that sternness, like he was the boss calling the shots, not a wounded man weak from the pain.
“I…” God, I had no clue what to even say. It was on the tip of my tongue to demand to know who he was, why he wanted to avoid cops, and how he’d gotten these scars. But I couldn’t. The second I asked for his secrets, he’d ask me for mine. That trust wasn’t there yet, even though he’d just taken a bullet for my son.
“Go on out there. Help him. Check on him.”
And now he had the audacity to dismiss me? “But you’re?—”
He shook his head, leaning toward the shower. “I’ll be okay. I’ll clean this up faster in the shower.” As the water turned on, he pressed his free hand to the gash to compress the bleeding.
While he was right, I felt more flustered to be kicked out of my own bathroom. Too many emotions warred in my head. Anger, fear, and suspicion. Then the odd relief that we’d gottenout before a cop could see me, plus the overwhelming gratitude that Oscar had been saved. Remorse and sadness that Saul was hurt at all entered the mixture too.
In short, I was a mess. But he had a point. Oscar was my priority, and he had to be struggling in the aftermath of this too.
With a single nod, I backed up and closed the door almost all the way, leaving it cracked an inch in case he’d fall or need me. I’d listen out for him, just in case.
“Will he be okay?” Oscar asked as soon as I found him in his bedroom.
I sighed, feeling unqualified to answer that. How could I know? Unlike Saul, I had zero experience with violence or injuries. “He thinks he will be.”
Oscar frowned but nodded.
“His wound seems to be superficial,” I said, knowing that was probably beyond Oscar’s understanding, but it filled the void of silence. “I’ll help him bandage it up after he’s done cleaning up.”
“Mama, why did that happen?” he asked with his big eyes full of worry.
I tucked him into a hug and admitted that I didn’t know. He was aware of the dangers of the city. We listened to the news often. He wasn’t completely sheltered, but it was a different thing to experience it firsthand.
Listening to the running water and waiting for a sound of alarm from Saul, I gave Oscar my full attention and talked with him as I got him changed and ready for bed. A little bit of blood had gotten on his clothes, but that was the least of my worries. Once he was in bed and dozing, miraculously, I watched him fall deeper asleep.
I could’ve lost him today. Losing my son was the one thing I'd worked so hard to avoid, but if he’d been hurt or killed at the diner, my purpose to live would’ve been gone. I couldn’t losehim. Not like that, in a random act of violence. And not like what I’d always feared might happen if our past caught up to us.
