Fighting Fate (Granton University #1)(24)

Focusing on the noise he made in the supply closet and bracing for the moment he would return to the intimate space behind the counter with her, she sucked in a breath when a sharp, slicing pain carved across her thumb.

Jumping away from the slicer, she dropped the blade, letting it clatter to the floor, and gaped in horror at the blood welling from her skin.

Dear God, she couldn’t stand the sight of blood. There had been so much blood. It had flared out from under her mother’s body like a scarlet cape.

The cape of death.

Dizziness swamped her. She was going to pass out. Her vision grayed at the edges. No wonder she refused to even think about her mother anymore. Even the mere memory made her want to faint.

“Wha—”

She looked up to see the stacks of cups in Logan’s arms tumble to the floor as his eyes widened with shock. He leaped toward her, making her jump back and ram her hip into the side of the counter.

Her need to swoon vanished, replaced by the shock of her brother’s murderer charging toward her.

Without speaking, he snatched her hand and pressed his fingers hard against the knuckle of her thumb, making the cut pulse with pain. She gasped and tried to pull away. Ignoring her, he looked both directions before glancing down and burying her thumb into his apron. The cloth instantly soaked up her blood.

After mummifying her thumb, he kept a tight hold of the wrap as he untied his apron strings with his free hand, untethering her from him.

Again, Paige tried to wrench free. “That hurts.”

“No, wait.” He tugged her closer. “We need to keep pressure on it to stanch the blood flow. Your cut looks pretty deep.”

Blood flow. Deep cut.

The words made her blanch.

He lifted his gaze to her face. “There’s a medical kit in the supply closet.”

She heard him but what he said didn’t make a lot of sense. When he nudged her along, she fell into step, drifting in whichever direction he prodded.

In the surprisingly roomy supply closet, he instructed her to sit on a sealed box full of Styrofoam cups. She eased down gingerly, not about to risk the chance of falling through the unstable makeshift stool.

After showing her how to hold her wrapped thumb tight so he could let go, Logan turned away and scoured the shelves until he located the medical kit. By the time he turned back, her heartbeat throbbed into her thumb with the force of a sonic boom.

“How’re you doing?” he asked, his calm voice somehow stabilizing her.

She could only nod, her tongue too thick with pain and dizziness.

The kit clanged open, and she winced against the crack of sound it made in her pounding head.

“Okay,” he said, easing her hand off the offended area. “Let’s take a peek. I need to clean it first to see what we’re working with.”

She closed her eyes and turned her head aside, knowing better than to look at the damage while he carefully removed the apron bandage. But she could practically taste the metallic flavor of blood, making her tongue tingle and her jaws ache, and knew it wasn’t good.

Paige concentrated on breathing through her nose. When an entire palate of scents entered her nostrils, she inhaled more, feeling strangely comforted. Who would’ve thought a musty old supply closet could smell so nice?

When she realized the smell wasn’t coming from the room, but from the boy tending to her, her eyes flew open in horror.

Oh God, she must be totally out of it if she thought Logan Xander smelled good. Clean. Like mountain spring fresh dryer sheets and spearmint gum.

He winced as he removed the apron. “This is deep. It might need stitches.”

Slamming her eyes closed again, Paige swayed.

“Hey, are you okay? Paige?”

His voice. Her name. They sounded so strange together.

“No hospital.” She slurred out the words.

“But—”

She flashed her lashes open just long enough to glare at him. “I don’t have insurance. My father can’t afford it.”

His bright sky blue eyes caught her off guard. She’d had no idea his eyes were so…blue. His mouth snapped shut as his blue, blue eyes studied her. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

He cleaned the wound first, apologizing softly as he poured the antiseptic over the cut, filling her entire hand and half her arm with liquid heat. Hissing out a strangled exhale, Paige grabbed a nearby shelf and held on for dear life.

Logan cursed quietly under his breath. “I should’ve forced him to put that safety guard on. You wouldn’t have gotten cut if it had been on. What was I thinking?”

Shocked he wanted to take responsibility for her stupid mistake, Paige shook her head and began to say, “No. No, you’re not—” But a second later, she realized what she was doing. She scowled and quickly added, “Yes. Yes, you should have. You owe me a new finger.”

He glanced up and his mouth fell open. His blue eyes blinked twice before he murmured, “Uh, how…how about I just patch up the one you have?”

She wanted to giggle. For some reason, the whole encounter seemed hilarious. A murderer was actually taking care of her, and she was damn near flirting with him, demanding new fingers as she fought back the gray fringes of unconsciousness that kept nudging at her brain.

She tossed out her unharmed hand with a sloppy flair. “Whatever. Fine. Do your best.”