Page 104 of Stepping Into Tomorrow

“It’s not big—just deep.”

She pulled the paper towels away and peeked at his injury. The blood was already slowing. A gash about an inch and a half across sliced through the meat of his hand. She squeezed the bandage back on it.

Nash grimaced.

“Roman is right. You need stitches.”

“No.”

“Nash—”

“I said no,” he snapped. Nash pulled his hand away from her, taking the bandage with him and holding it in place himself. He sighed and looked at her. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to go to the hospital for a scratch.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s a little more than a scratch.”

“I’ve had worse. It’ll be fine.” He pulled a seat out from the table and sat, pushing around the pile of mail.

“I’m calling Ma,” Roman said.

“What are you, fucking twelve?” Nash grumbled. “Don’t you dare. I’m a grown man. I’ll use some super glue and be good as new in a few days.”

“At least clean it out with something first so you don’t trap infection in.” Roman opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a first-aid kit.

Isabella took the kit from Roman and got to work cleaning the wound. Nash hissed as she poured alcohol over it.

“Well, you could be numbed up if you went to the ER,” Roman not-so-helpfully said.

Nash glared at him.

Isabella finished sealing the wound. Nash picked up an envelope as Roman returned the first-aid kit under the sink.

“You can go rest; you look a little tired. I can take care of him,” Roman said.

“I’m right here, you know. You don’t have to talk about me like I’m a child. And I can take care of myself.” Nash ripped open one of the letters.

Roman walked around the table to face his brother. “You don’t have to be an asshole. We only care about you—Nash? What’s wrong? What is it?”

Isabella’s attention snapped towards Nash. His eyes blazed with a mix of panic and grief. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as he held a diamond ring in his trembling hand.

“What the fuck is that?” Roman asked, moving behind his brother and leaning in towards the letter.

“Nash?” Isabella whispered, afraid of the manic energy pulsing in the room. She could taste his fear; it was coming off him in such thick waves.

“How did this letter get here?” Nash’s voice was cold as ice, his eyes not moving from the ring in his hand.

“How?!” he yelled.

She flinched. “Th-the mailbox. I got it on my way in.”

“Holy shit. I’m calling the sheriff.” Roman finished reading the letter and pulled out his phone before stepping into the other room.

“What’s going on, Nash? You’re scaring me.” Her heart raced, a million scenarios spiraling through her mind.

Nash bolted upright so fast the chair turned over before he raced out the door. The four-wheeler engine roared a moment later, and then he was off.

Roman walked back into the room, his face ashen like he’d seen a ghost.

“What’s going on? Where did Nash go?”

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