Boundary Crossed (Boundary Magic #1)(21)
“Oh. Yeah.” She rolled her eyes ruefully, as if med school was just a post-college rite of passage, like backpacking through Europe. “I did two years, but I got sick of not being able to add any magic to what we were doing. I mean, it’d be like you going into war armed with heavy rocks when you could be using guns. Simon told me you were a soldier. I hope that’s okay.”
“Uh, sure.”
She surveyed the counter. “Okay, I think I’m all set up here.” Pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, she made a quick motion in the direction of my chest. “Time to sit down and lose the shirt.”
“Right,” I said, feeling a little awkward. It had been a while since I’d taken my shirt off in front of a stranger, even another woman.
Lily cocked an eyebrow, clearly picking up on my discomfort. “Here, look.” Her fingers dropped to the hem of her tank top, pulling it up and exposing smooth brown skin and several more tattoos, not to mention small, firm breasts—she wasn’t wearing a bra either. She dropped the shirt back down. “Now we’re even.”
A laugh escaped from between my lips, and I sat on the stool and started to unbutton my flannel shirt. “I can’t believe you just flashed me as an icebreaker.”
“It might not be the best precedent to set,” Lily said agreeably.
I peeled the flannel off carefully, with Lily helping a little. She handed it to me, and I stuck my arms through the sleeves again, pulling it on backward to cover my front.
Lily let out a low whistle. “Wow,” she said admiringly, echoing my tone of voice from earlier. “Your scars are amazing.” I felt her touch the thick white line of older scar tissue that bisected my own tattoo, a black design on my shoulder with my unit’s shield and the words “US ARMY.” “What happened here?” she asked curiously.
“Oh . . . everyone in my squad was getting them,” I said, deliberately misinterpreting the question.
When I didn’t say anything else, she said quietly, “It’s good work.” She cleared her throat. “Right. Let’s get started on those stitches.”
She soaked a cotton ball in iodine and started disinfecting all my fresh injuries from the healed-over stitches. I felt the cold liquid running down my skin and shivered, grateful for the backward shirt. After giving the iodine a second to dry, Lily started at the topmost injury—snipping the stitches with her little scissors and pulling them free with tweezers. “These are either infected or were just about to get infected.” I could hear the frown in her voice. “Simon should have taken them out as soon as he gave you Sybil’s charm.”
“It’s not his fa-ault,” I protested, stumbling over my words from pain as she tugged at a stitch. “There wasn’t any time.”
“Still,” she grumbled, but good-naturedly now. “My brother thinks he’s a goddamned cowboy. A nerdy, overeager, scientist cowboy, which is obviously the worst kind.”
I smiled, although she couldn’t see it. “Which of you is older?” I said, though I was pretty sure it was Simon.
A snort. “He is. I’m the baby. My sister Morgan is the oldest. The heir apparent, or so she thinks. Then it’s Sybil, who tries to keep up by being really tightly wound. Simon and I are more laid-back.”
“Still, it sounds like you guys are close.”
“I guess. Do you have brothers and sisters?” she asked.
“I have a lot of cousins. We’re pretty tight,” I said truthfully. If there was one thing I’d learned about small talk in the last year, it was that “dead twin sister” pretty much ruined things for everyone.
“Oh, cousins are the best,” Lily said agreeably. “Sibling enough to love you forever, but you never have to worry about them stealing your clothes.” She made another careful snip. “I like your earrings, by the way,” Lily added. “Is that a griffin?”
“Oh, thanks.” I touched one of the little silver studs. I didn’t wear earrings often, but when I did, I usually chose this pair, each one a tiny curled-up animal. “Yeah. My cousin Anna gave them to me. She has this weird idea that griffins are my spirit animal,” I explained. “She’s got a New Age streak, but we’ve mostly learned to adjust.” And at least it wasn’t a unicorn.
Somewhere between the second and third line of stitches, the doorbell rang again. It was a sudden, shocking sound, given that the dogs were all still draped on various pieces of furniture when it happened. They hadn’t even made it to their first round of barks. I jumped, and Lily poked me hard with the tweezers. All four of the dogs leapt up like they’d been caught sleeping on the job, which was true. “My fault,” I called over the sound of barking dogs. “Can you stop for a second?”
Still wearing the backward shirt, I padded through the cabin to the front door, peering through the window again. It was fully dark outside by now, but the automatic sensor light showed Quinn, looking handsome in jeans and a black leather jacket. Was that look a vampire thing?
Using one foot as a stopper, I cracked the door open. The dogs, who had huddled around me, began freaking out in earnest—Cody and Dopey whined and pawed the floor, Pongo barked as loud as he could, and Chip actually began to howl. I’d never heard that sound from him before. “Hi,” I said over the racket. “You came over.”