Page 18 of Timelessly Ours
There’s a breeze coming from the back of the house, near the kitchen and I notice the sliding back door is pulled open. Nicole’s car keys are safely hidden in my truck, but I wouldn’t put it past her to go searching at the first chance she got.
I move fast toward the open door just as the jarring sound of glass shattering and profanity echoes from the kitchen. Switching direction, I race to the root of the noise.
Nicole’s hands are in the kitchen sink—along with the array of dinner dishes. But it’s all hazy in the background. The blood running down her palm is all I see.
I’m at her side in an instant and shut off the water, then tear a few sheets off the paper towel roll, immediately securing the wound with a tight grip.
“I would have taken care of that,” I tell her calmly.
“I wanted to help,” she says absently. Her hands are shaking, and I grip the other one.
“Wait here, hold this tight against your palm, and don’t pull it off.”
I return with a first aid kit and pull out the items I’ll need. Gently, I open her palm and look her in the eye. “This might sting.”
Her tone is as sharp as the glass that sliced her flesh. “I think I’ll be alright.”
She wasn’t wrong. Nicole doesn’t flinch when I remove the bloody towel from her hand and rub alcohol over the wound. With a generous amount of antiseptic applied, I roll the bandage over her hand a few times and make a small knot on the side.
“I’m a mess,” she whispers, then looks up at me. “What now?”
And in her eyes, I see it. The one thing Nicole never shows. The one thing I personally know she’d die before admitting.
Fear.
“Come here.” Taking her other hand, I lead her to the den and settle her on the loveseat, kneeling in front of her.
“You have to understand, I feel like I have an obligation. Not for my sake, but for yours. There’s probably some kind of…protocol that I’m not experienced in. Your brother, he’s—”
With eyes full of unshed tears, she looks down at me. “Don’t call him. Please. He’s…he’s finally got his life together. Controlling his temper. He’s in an actual relationship. I don’t want to move him backwards. My brother will never blame me. He’ll blame himself…and he’ll go off again.” She shakes her head. “I will handle this. I can’t bring him down with me. What good is it if we’re both fucked up?”
I swallow. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
She shrugs. “I don’t really believe that Nick will send me back to rehab. But I’ll be under his constant supervision. You remember what it was like. He wouldn’t go anywhere without bringing me along. And where do you all go after games?”
I nod. To drink.
“I know I can barely stand straight now, but I can take care of myself. Last night was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
I can’t fight it when my hand reaches up and strokes her cheek, then my fingers do what they’ve been itching to for the last two years. I push her hair behind her ear and hold the side of her face. “Are you angry with me?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
She smiles weakly and leans into my hand. “I don’t have the right to be.”
I inhale deeply. I know the right thing to do and I just can’t find it in me to do it. I can’t call him. I need more time to think.
Fuck, I need more time with her.
“Why don’t you get some sleep,” I suggest softly.
She sighs. “I feel like I’ve been sleeping all day.”
“You need rest. Your body is still recovering and if I’m not mistaken, you’ve been stressing out all day about what I’m going to do with you. That’s not resting.”
She lifts a brow as if to say we still don’t have that answer.
“Come on.” I stand her up and help her up the stairs.
“Sorry for the broken glass.” She offers when we reach the guestroom door.