Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
There’s a sudden knock at my door.
I sit up straight in surprise. Nobody ever comes here this early. But maybe Tabby’s having trouble with the baby or Mina needs help. I hurry over and pull it open.
Only to find Stellan standing there, a bundled-up shirt shoved against his ribs. My mouth falls open as I stare at him. His chest is bare under his jacket. There are intricate tattoos all over his skin and thick slabs of muscle ripple down his torso. I’ve never seen someone so cut and fit in my entire life. He’s physical perfection.
Except for the blood-drenched shirt.
“How are you with a needle?” he asks.
“Stellan, what are you doing?”
“Need a hand.”
“Why are you here? You can’t be here right now.” My eyes flip from the bloody shirt back to his grimacing face. “Are you hurt?”
“Can’t do a hospital. Frankie’s busy. Don’t trust anyone else.”
“No, no way. You need a doctor.”
“I have everything. You just need to stitch.”
“Stellan!” I’m about to tell him to get the hell out of here when Mrs. Walker’s door opens. She pokes her head out, white hair in curlers.
“Is that Stellan?” she asks, squinting. The old bat’s blind as hell without her glasses. “Mr. Stellan, I wanted to thank you—”
“Another time, Mrs. Walker!” I call out sweetly, grab Stellan by the arm, and drag him inside.
He grunts softly in pain as the door closes.
We’re close together in my tiny foyer. I’m intensely aware of his size. He smells like blood, sweat, and a slight deodorant cologne. It’s a good smell, and I breathe it in.
“Please,” he says. And for once, he sounds completely earnest.
What a mess. What an absolute nightmare.
“You have to be quiet,” I hiss, leading him to the bathroom. This is a massive mistake. “Gem can’t see you.”
“I won’t make a peep,” he says, low and soft. “Just clean me up.”
I bite my lip to keep myself from groaning.
Once he’s sitting on the closed toilet seat, I lock the door and turn on the shower. “Show me.”
He shrugs off the jacket. Several white envelopes spill out from a pocket. He moves the bloody shirt and shows me a long gash in his ribs.
I pull back, shaking my head. “No way.”
“I already did the disinfecting. There’s medical-grade needle and thread in those.” He nods at the envelopes. “Rip them open. Needle’s already prepped and sterile. Push in one side and out the other. Pull it closed, tie it off with two loops, and cut it off. Keep the stitches close together.”
My pulse races into my throat. I stare at the wound. It’s long and deep. “You’re going to need a dozen.”
“Better get started.” He reaches down and pulls out a bottle from his jacket. He pops the top and dry swallows several pills. “Be gentle with me, darling.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter, picking up the envelopes and ripping them open.
This can’t be happening. My hands are shaking as I hold the needle over the wound. He stares at me, completely calm. Whatever drugs he took must be having an effect. He smiles slightly and tilts his head. Blood oozes slowly from the wound.
“Go ahead, baby,” he whispers.
“Why can’t you go to a doctor again?”
“You know why.”
I close my eyes. God, I know, I just don’t want to admit it.
I jab the needle into his flesh.
It’s not so bad, really. He barely makes a sound and keeps extremely still. The first couple of stitches are clumsy and not good, but he coaches me through it. By the fifth, I feel like I’m getting the hang of it.
Until Gem pounds on the door. “Kira? Are you still in the shower? I need to brush my teeth.”
“Almost done!” I sound shrill and terrified. Stellan’s leaning back against the toilet, grinning at me. He waggles his eyebrows. I put a finger to my lips, glaring hard so he understands this isn’t a joke. “Make some breakfast. I had a pretty nasty shift.”
“Oh god, did someone puke on you again?”
“Yep, just lots of puke! I need a deep scrub, okay?”
“Do what you gotta do. Love you.”
I wait a second until she’s gone. Then I lean in close.
“If she catches you here, I swear, I’ll stab you in the eye with this needle.”
“I love the way you flirt with me, baby.”
My jaw tightens, but I get back to work.
The last few stitches go smoothly. He makes no noise and doesn’t complain. It’s honestly incredible. I’m guessing the pills helped, but his eyes are filled with agony. He’s suffering in silence, despite how badly this hurts.
I cut off the last stitch. “That should do.”
“There’s a bandage in the other envelope.”
I get it out and tape it on. When I’m done, he gingerly shrugs his jacket back on. I clean everything up, wrap it in his ruined, bloody shirt, and shove it into the trash under some old pad wrappers.