Beth Andrews - Small-Town Redemption

Time slowed. She had no idea how long they stayed that way, eyes locked, hands clasped. All sound seemed to dissipate so even her own words disappeared, though she kept up the mindless chatter. Her entire world narrowed so the only thing she saw was Kane. Color slowly seeped back into his face. His gaze sharpened, came back into focus. His hand warmed against hers, his palm rough, his fingers twitching with every pull of the thread. He inhaled, quick and shallow.

“You’re okay.” She kept her voice quiet, her own breathing deep and even in the hopes he’d follow suit. “You’re okay.”

“Last two stitches,” Justin said, his low tone mimicking her own.

She stood, but Kane didn’t let go. She patted his hand. “It’s all right now. Dr. Louk is done, but he needs my help.” For a moment, she was afraid Kane didn’t hear or understand what she was saying. But then he slowly, reluctantly, slid his hand from hers.

Wiping her tingling palm down the front of her thigh, she crossed to the hand sanitizer on the wall, cleaned her hands, then walked around the bed, all the while hyperaware of Kane’s intense gaze on her. She held the scissors out for Justin, hating the unsteadiness of her hands, of her heart. The way her mind raced with questions, with concerns. She wanted to get to the bottom of Kane’s behavior, wanted to ask him what had brought it on, what she could do to help him.

She must be a complete idiot.

Because no matter what had come over Kane, the last thing she needed was to try to fix him.

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