“I’m back.”
“And?”
Hands in his pockets, Seth walks down the hall and stops in front of the closed bathroom door. He raps twice, earning an exaggerated sigh from Lacey.
He smirks. He can practically feel her glare through the door. “What’re you doin’?”
“Changing my bandage.”
“You need some help?”
“No.”
“Don’t forget to wash your hands. And no pullin’ at the stitches either.”
Silence.
Seth waits, crossing his arms to lean against the wall.
Another sigh.
“Are you going to hover outside my bathroom door for the next twenty minutes, micromanaging every little thing?”
Seth smiles. “I hadn’t planned on it, but now that you mention it ...”
The door swings open. Lacey pins him with a scowl. “Fine, get in here and help me if you think you can do it better.”
Seth steps through the threshold and freezes. “Good Christ, Lacey,” he says, staring in horror at the hellscape that is her bathroom.
She purses her lips, following his gaze. “I know. It’s so small.”
“It ain’t the damn size.” He gestures at the counter. Her beauty products spread everywhere like a goddamn tornado ripped through the cosmetics aisle.
She crosses her arms, her glare slicing his way. “I need all this, Seth.”
He picks up a tube of something beige. “For what? Spackle?”
“Just help me,” she snaps, snatching away the tube.
After clearing a space in the bathroom and washing his hands, Seth steps up, his eyes tracking over Lacey. She’s changed out of scrubs into a light purple knit top and linen lounge pants. Her hair waves around her shoulders, and her bored gaze tells him she’s waiting for him to get on with it.
Without a word, he slowly lifts her top, revealing a taut and toned abdomen. Her bandage is already off. An angry red incision stares back at Seth. He sucks in a breath. “Jesus.”
His thoughts turn black. Whoever did this, they could have killed her. Someone hurt Lacey. Someone hurt his—
Friend. Wrong. Best friend’s sister. Better. Sal’s sister. Perfect.
“I know,” she says, her voice sad, not understanding Seth’s reaction. “It looks so ugly.”
Lacey stares up at him, her blond hair in her face, her green eyes so forlorn, he can’t help himself. He cups her cheek, feathering a thumb across the arc of her cheekbone. “It don’t look ugly, Lace.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and then she glances down, her lower lip pulled between her teeth. Like she’s trying to chase away the emotion, his touch.
With careful hands, Seth cleans her wound. Lacey shivers as his fingertips graze her skin. Though his focus is changing her bandage, he can’t help but take in every part of her. Her bronze skin, the curve of her hip, the smattering of light freckles arcing around her belly button like a constellation.
Lacey stands robot-stiff, slightly angled into him, her eyes closed. So still, he can’t be sure she’s breathing.
After he finishes taping on a new bandage, he says, “There. That feel okay?”