“Except that time I shot a flaming arrow into the gasoline jug when I was twelve, but I kind of knew that was going to happen,” he mumbles. “The only thing that got damaged then was my hide.”
I want to laugh, but I don’t have the energy. My hand wets with the blood soaking through the towel as my legs dangle over the edge of the table. I hear the tequila slosh behind me as Noah downs a couple swallows, and I look over, seeing Kaleb throw a red tin box on the table.
My pulse kicks up a notch.
But instead of coming back to the table, he walks behind me, and I hear the sink turn on. I look over my shoulder, seeing him wash his hands.
My stomach churns and knots, and I bite my lip.
“Here.” Noah nudges me, the cool glass bottle hitting my shoulder. “Drink this.”
I shake my head. I can’t stomach anything right now.
Kaleb comes over and opens the box, pulling out various tools.
“Were you guys awake?” I ask, looking between them. “I mean, thank God you caught the fire in time.”
Noah’s gaze flashes to Kaleb, but neither of them answers. Kaleb takes my arm, gently pulling off the sticky towel, and I groan, a tear spilling over.
Changing my mind, I grab the bottle out of Noah’s hand and throw it back, gulping down two huge swallows.
The burn scorches my throat, and I cough, someone taking the bottle out of my hand again, and I dry heave, ready to fucking throw up. That’s nasty.
But I grab the bottle again and force down another shot.
Kaleb leans over the box, pulling out a needle and thread, and I watch, the tequila blazing a path to my stomach as he uses some sort of clamp to thread the needle and then flick a lighter under it, sanitizing it.
What the fuck?
And then it hits me.
Oh, no.
I shake my head. “Kaleb, no.”
He shoots his eyes up to me, his dark green gaze unflinching.
But his stomach—the top half of his body bare, because he never got completely dressed when he ran outside—tightens with his heavy breaths. Almost like he’s…nervous.
He takes my arm, clenching his jaw, and presses his fingers into my arm, pinching the torn skin back together.
I cry out. “No, Kaleb, stop.”
I can’t do this. I turn my face away, sucking in breaths.
“You have to do it,” Noah says, handing me the bottle again. “If you don’t, you might get an infection, and then you’ll wish you were dead.”
I down another swallow of the tequila.
Kaleb’s eyes meet mine once more, and then his fingers—red and stained with my blood—pinch the skin closed again as he sticks the needle through.
My stomach churns, and I shake, a cold sweat hitting me as he pulls the thread through. I bite my bottom lip until I taste blood. “Noah,” I sob.
It fucking hurts. I want Jake. They don’t know what they’re doing. Isn’t there a super glue thing now? You know, where you glue your skin together?
Kaleb pulls the thread tight, a searing snake bite hitting my arm, and I clench my teeth, tears hanging and threatening to fall.
Fuck.
Noah hands me the bottle again, but I push it away. My stomach is warm, and I feel the lightness in my head, but I’m about to fucking throw up.
I take deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling and trying to calm my damn stomach, but Kaleb sticks the needle through my flesh again, and I can feel the blood spilling down my arm as white hot pain shoots off through my body.
“Please” I cry. “Please stop.”
I shove him away, trying to get his hand off my arm. I can’t do this. We have to wait. Jake will know what to do. I can’t do this. I won’t lay eyes on a doctor for five more months. What if the pain never goes away? What if it doesn’t heal?
I pry his hand off. “Get off me,” I growl. “It hurts!”
He stands up, and before I know I can tell what’s happening, his hand whips across my face, and my neck twists so hard, a tendon nearly snaps.
My eyes pop wide, my mouth falls open, and I stop crying, pulling in a breath as I sit there, my ears ringing and my body frozen.
What the fuck?
He hit me.
He hit me!
He plants his fists on the sides of my thighs and leans down into my face, and it takes a moment to get my bearings again because the room is spinning.
“What the fuck!” I snarl and turn back around.
I raise my hand and slap him back, his head barely jerking with the attack.
“You hit me!” I scream, anger hardening in my gut.
I shove him in the chest with both hands, hitting him again.
“But you’re not in pain anymore, are you?” Noah says in my ear behind me.
I glare at Kaleb, but I process Noah’s words, focusing on the feeling in my arm.
The pain is there, but it’s dulled—the rage in my head too strong right now.
I don’t feel sick anymore.
My breathing turns shallow, and I stare at Kaleb who’s still leaning down into me.
But he doesn’t wait for my shock to wear off. He sits back down in the chair and jerks his chin at Noah, as if signaling something, and pinches me again, puncturing the skin with the needle.
Noah climbs on the table behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist and threading a hand into the back of my scalp.
He fists my hair, and I wince at the sting but exhale as the focus is taken off the pain in my arm.
Kaleb pulls the thread tight, and I close my eyes, sweat breaking out all over my body at the onslaught. Jesus, fuck.
Kaleb threads, Noah’s fist tightens, and I let my head fall back against him, turning my lips into his neck to cry.
Again and again, two more times, and my stomach rolls. I heave.
“Kaleb,” I beg.
He darts his eyes up to me, and I look at him, nodding.
Just do it. Just…
His brows pinch, and he breathes hard, but he rises, hesitating only a moment before he slaps me again. I cry out, squeezing my eyes shut and making tears stream down my face.
I blow out a long, slow breath as the world spins.
Hands suddenly cup my face, caressing so softly now—like feathers—and then a mouth is on mine, gently kissing my lips. He nibbles and soothes, his teeth grabbing hold of my bottom lip and making my blood warm all the way down to my toes.
Heat fills my body, and it’s like I’m floating. His tongue touches mine, scorching and… Oh, God. I’m weightless. It tastes so good.
I run my hands up his stomach and chest, and I start to circle my legs around him, but I stop myself.
“Fin—” I stammer in a whisper. “Fin…finish it. Just finish it, please.”
The lips leave me, and I turn my head as the needle pokes through, and I let out a cry, but it’s lost in Noah. His mouth is on mine now, and I scream as he just holds me and I shake.
Shit.
“Tiernan,” he whispers. “Shhhh…”
The fire on his clothes wafts around me, and the next thing I know he’s burying his face in my neck, not kissing, as he squeezes the front of my throat.
“Harder,” I gasp.
He sinks his teeth into my neck, squeezing me, and just as I feel the pinch of Kaleb’s needle, I grab the back of Noah’s head and turn into him, breathing in and out hard against his lips.
“Tiernan,” Noah whispers, and I taste salt, but I’m not sure if it’s his tear or mine. “I love you. You’re so fucking ours. We love you.”
He kisses my cheek and my forehead as Kaleb works, and I try to calm my breathing as the tingles from his mouth on my skin sink in.
A bottle grazes my lips, and I take another drink as Kaleb bites off the thread, cleans the blood off my arm, and wraps me up with a bandage.
The alcohol starts to warm my insides, the pain in my arm less sharp than it was.
My cheek burns, though.
I open my eyes wide, drawing in a deep breath.
“You could’ve warned me,” I tell Kaleb, my voice thick with tears as I stare down at him. “You could’ve hit me anywhere else.”
Why the face?
He closes the kit and rises, taking the bloody gauze to the trash.
I set the bottle down and slide off the table. “Cici Diggins came out of the cave with you at the waterfall with a bloody nose that day.”
“What?” Noah hops off the table, too.
But Kaleb doesn’t acknowledge me. I stare at his back as he washes his hands at the sink. His muscles flex, and his breathing is slow and methodical. Too calm.
Doesn’t he want to defend himself? She could be telling the truth. I’ve seen him abusive. Throwing things, spitting, not taking ‘no’ for an answer…
He slapped me without any hesitation tonight.
But the dogs love him most, don’t they? They follow him, sleep with him, and make him smile when he doesn’t think we see.
He’s always ready to stand in front of me and keep me from harm. He tries to connect, like when I was sketching.
No matter what snide comment Noah makes or what his father demands from him in his harsh tone, he doesn’t say anything or start a fight. He just does whatever he has to so people will leave him alone.
I look away, shaking my head. This is what women do, though, isn’t it? Look for meaning in the tiniest details to mean more than they do.
The corners of my mouth twitch as my eyes sting. “Kaleb,” I whisper, begging.
But it’s Noah who speaks up. “Cici Diggins would say anything for attention.”
“She was bleeding,” I clarify. “She didn’t know I would see her.”