Chapter 35
I think the shock is the only reason Nathan allows me to pull him into my room, and when the door clicks shut behind him, I decide that after this is over, I’m checking myself into a mental health
facility.
There is definitely something wrong with me.
Nathan gapes at me, and I gape back.
“Um…”
“Sit!” I say, pointing to the chair in front of the vanity where I’m primped daily.
I’ve already done the stupid thing; I might as well continue.
It’s disturbing how quickly that has become somewhat of a life motto -especially when it comes to Nathan Ashford.
Nathan doesn’t move, and I sigh, leading him to the chair. I press down on his shoulders, forcing him to sit. He looks stunned, and I
can’t blame him.
He’s probably wondering how many screws I have loose and regretting his decision to come to check up on me.
“Stay here,” I instruct.
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He opens his mouth to say something, but I’m already walking away into the bathroom. I close the door behind me and rush to the mirror.
I stare at my reflection. Yep, same grey eyes as last time I checked, not red, which would indicate that I was possessed–and explain what
the hell I’m doing.
“What the fuck, April?” I hiss at my reflection.
Then I catch sight of…yep–that damned drool on my cheek. I turn on the tap and aggressively rinse my face, inwardly throwing all the curse words I know at myself.
When I’m done, my eyes don’t look so puffy from my nap, and the drool is gone. I fill a bowl with water and grab a small towel before heading back out.
Nathan is still seated where I put him, and honestly, that surprises me. I totally expected him to bolt the second I left him.
For a second, I just stare at his back. He’s sitting stiffly, his hands pressed tightly in his lap, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” I say as I approach him.
I set the bowl of water on the table next to him and soak the towel into it. After squeezing it, I stretch out a hand to him.
“Give me your hand.”
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Nathan doesn’t move. “You really don’t have to do this,” he says, then stands. “I should g-”
I press his shoulder down, forcing him back into the seat.
“If you wanted to leave, you would have done so when I was in the
bathroom.”
Nathan’s eyes widen at the same time mine do. I think that was by far the most audacious thing I’ve ever said to Nathan Ashford.
At some point between the horse track and now, could I have been drugged?
Wordlessly, Nathan puts his hand in mine.
I ignore the instant shock of electricity that runs through me and sit on the extra stool before him.
For the good of my sanity, and so I don’t further say or do any more stupid things, I focus solely on Nathan’s hand.
I clean it with the damp towel, careful to be gentle over the cuts and scratches. I do that twice before leaving the towel in the bowl. Thankfully, there is no debris or splinters stuck in his skin.
Then, I reach for the first aid kit. I take out the alcohol swabs first. “This might sting,” I tell him softly.
When I gently run the swabs over his cuts, his hand stiffens, and I
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look up just in time to see him school his face into a blank
expression.
I avert my gaze immediately, biting my lip to keep from smiling. I can’t describe how it feels in this moment–being with Nathan so… normally.
Moments like this remind me that he’s human, just like the rest of us.
After disinfecting his cuts, I gently apply antibiotic ointment over all of them. I raise his hand and blow softly.
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