Page 84 of Crossover
Wonderful.
“Is it a through-and-through?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” he said in a deep voice. “I think it just grazed me.”
If it hadn’t been so dark in the woods, if he hadn’t been wearing a black jacket and he hadn’t cut my concern off by arguing overmysafety, maybe I would have seen the tiny bullet hole in his jacket.
“Why didn’t you tell me this when you grabbed our stuff from the motel room?”
“We were in a hurry.”
Seriously? What the hell?! Why was he so meticulous with my safety and so reckless with his own?
“Oh, right. I forgot that part of my medical training. Wounds aren’t serious, so long as you’re in a hurry.”
He flashed an annoyed—and, yes, dammit, sexy—glare at me. “I’ll live.”
“If blood is actively leaking, then the wound hasn’t clotted, and no clotting means it’s a significant laceration that needs stitches,” I said, my nurse’s training kicking in.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re sexy when you speak medical jargon?” Grayson’s eyebrows rose, a playful grin tugging at his lips.
“This isn’t funny, Grayson.”
He rolled his eyes. “We were almost taken out by a jackass in the woods. I’d say a wound is minor compared to that.”
“But—”
“Daniel’s going to figure out Tweedledum back there is dead, so we need to get to Barry.”
“You need to stop at an ER,” I insisted.
“Okay. I’ll do that. You call Daniel so he doesn’t have to depend on the pesky alert he’ll undoubtedly get the second either of us shows up to an ER or police station.”
I clenched my fists. “You need medical treatment.”
“I’m a fast healer,” he said flatly.
“I’m a nurse. I can help. Stop at a pharmacy and then a hotel.”
“We need to catch up to Red and your mom.”
Look at him, keeping his attention on the road like we were debating when to stop for a burger.
“Okay, great, bleed out. Just be sure you tell me where we’re going so I can take over when you’re unconscious or dead.”
That incited a glower from him.
“Tell me,” I continued. “Do you prefer cremation? Or should I just chuck you out of the vehicle at sixty miles an hour?”
“If it was fatal, I’d be dead by now,” he said.
“Oh, I didn’t realize bullets came with expiration dates. I’ll be sure to pass that along to medical schools across the country. They’ll be so relieved that if patients haven’t died within”—I looked at the clock—“a half hour, there’s no need to even treat them.”
Grayson rolled his eyes, more dramatically this time.
“Even seemingly small wounds can kill people,” I pleaded, softening my tone.
“I hope you’re more optimistic when you speak to your patients.”