You, With a View(37)

He’d gasped out, “Fucking hell. Shepard, are you okay?”

“I think so.” My knee was already wet, on fire.

There’d been a brief pause while Paul called down to us. Then Theo’s voice went sharp as a knife. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Turns out that was a rhetorical question. He ignored my breathless explanations as he got me up the hill, ripped his shirt like the Hulk version of Captain America, and bandaged up my knee. He ignored me during our hour-long ride from the park, and when Paul offered to grab water and painkillers in the gift shop downstairs.

That his first words to me in two hours are “you’re a fucking mess” and “take your pants off” is deeply ironic. I am a mess. And it’s not the first demand he’s ever made of me, but it’s the first one I’ve ever followed with such little hesitation.

I undress to the muffled sounds of Theo moving around in the bathroom. Something about it soothes me, that there’s someone in there waiting to take care of me. That he’s willing to, even after I messed up.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline finally catching up, or the pain, but tears sting my eyes as I pull on my shorts. I take two gulping breaths to push the emotion back. I don’t want to walk into that bathroom if I’m not calm. If I’m not calm, then I’m vulnerable. The thought of Theo seeing any more of my soft underbelly scares me more than falling down that embankment.

When I push the bathroom door open a minute later, though, I feel like I’m seeing his. He’s braced against the counter, head hanging low. I nearly back out to give him more time to . . . I don’t know. Collect himself.

The squeaking hinges alert him to my presence, though, and his expression straightens.

He pushes off the counter, clearing his throat, then freezes. “I—are those underwear?”

I look down, pulling at the cotton. “No, they’re shorts.”

“Says who?” he grumbles, turning back to the counter and grabbing one of the myriad packets littering one side of the sink.

“Target.”

With a deeply impatient sigh, he gestures to the cleared space on the counter. “Hop up.”

“Uh.” I look down at my mangled knee. “I’m not sure I—”

Theo’s hands are on me before I’m prepared. I don’t know how I’d prepare for this, anyway: the warmth of his skin against mine above my waistband, the way his fingers dig into my back, his thumbs pressing hard into my abdomen.

I have to wrap my arms around his neck. I’ll fall otherwise. It feels like I’m falling anyway.

He places me unceremoniously on the counter, his hands loosening but not immediately dropping from their bracketed position. His broad palms are the perfect width for the valleys of my body. I wish I could erase that knowledge from my brain.

My arms are still frozen around his neck. He reaches behind him, our faces inches apart, and grabs my wrists. He doesn’t touch me like I’m delicate or fragile. He touches me like I can take it. My stomach tightens in tandem with the squeeze of his fingers over my wrists as he sets my hands on my thighs.

“Was that necessary? I think I’ve gotten thrown around enough today,” I murmur into the silence.

He smirks. “Didn’t know there was a limit.”

Jesus. I look away, down at the spread of medical supplies. “Are you going to fix me up, McDreamy?”

“Who the hell is McDreamy?”

“He was on a show I’ve been bingeing that’s on its, like, fortieth seas—” I wave my hand in the air impatiently. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. He’s a hot television doctor.”

I look back up to find Theo’s smirk has gotten bigger. His dimple winks at me, though his eyes are still stormy. “Hot, huh?”

“Settle your ego. You skew much more McAngsty.”

He gives me a look that broadcasts his skepticism as he picks up an antiseptic packet. “McAngsty who saved your ass.”

“I wanted to get the perfect shot.”

The rip of the paper fills the bathroom. God, it’s small in here. Theo’s shoulders alone take up seventy percent of the space.

“And you fell down a hill,” he says. “How’s that perfection feeling now?”

It hurts like hell.

Theo looks at me like I’ve said it out loud, and his expression softens, just barely. He braces a hand on my uninjured knee, stepping into the vee of my legs.

“This is going to sting.”

I stare at the starburst in his eyes, thinking yes, it is just before the vicious pain hits.

“Oh fuck,” I gasp out, gripping his forearm. “Oh my god, that hurts.”

“Breathe,” he commands, and my lungs kick out an exhale on instinct. He’s so close my breath stirs the curling hair beneath his ear. I squeeze my eyes shut so I won’t look at him or my knee. The antiseptic burns almost as badly as the injury itself, nearly as much as the burn in my chest from realizing I could have hurt Theo, too. He drives me to the edge of my patience constantly, but I’d never forgive myself if something happened to him.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe out.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, “Don’t do shit like that again, Shepard. We’re going to be walking along much higher drops. I don’t want to watch your body fall off the side of the Grand Canyon.”