“Head wounds can be dangerous,” I snapped, rubbing another alcohol wipe over his temple to mop up the blood.
I’d flown the guys and the package–a.k.a. the rescued civilians, back to Mexico City with my heart pounding out of my chest the entire flight. I’d had the bird up and running, rotors spinning as they came out of the woods. We were off the ground the second Taft stepped onto the running boards, not even waiting for him to climb in. My adrenaline had flooded my system when I saw the blood on Kennedy and knew we needed to get the fuck out of there.
Turned out, he’d been grazed by a bullet.His skullhad been in the way of a firing gun. I still couldn’t breathe thinking about it. One fraction of an inch more, and Kennedy’s brains could’ve been splattered all over the Mexican forest.
It wasn’t okay.
Iwasn’t okay.
Now, as I stood between his knees to dress the wound, I wanted to throw up. The fact that he seemed unconcerned about it made me even angrier. Why was he so calm about this? I had to wonder if he’d been injured like this before, and it wasn’t even a big deal to him.
Well, it was a big deal to me.
“Do you know how lucky you were?” I raged. “Seriously, Kennedy. Do you have any idea? You nearly died back there.”
“Aw, all this time you’ve been pretending you didn’t care.” Kennedy’s normally panty-soaking grin made me want to kick him.
“This isn’t funny!”
His large hands settled lightly on my outer thighs as I rubbed antibiotic ointment over the open wound. My hands shook as I packed gauze into the little trench. Kennedy was right–it was just a flesh wound. It missed the bone. Just seared the skin on the side of his forehead. Still, it wouldn't stop bleeding, and the sight of blood running down Kennedy’s face made me sweatier than the Mexican weather.
I should’ve told him to keep his hands off me, especially in front of the rest of the team, but I was the one pressing my tits in his face wearing nothing more than my tank top undershirt. Besides, the sensation of his steady touch eased some of my panic.
He was still here, being annoyingly charming as ever. He was alive.
He’d heal from this wound in a matter of weeks. There weren’t even any metallic shavings or shrapnel in there as far as I could tell, only a hint of burn around the edges.
“Thank you, Flyer.” For once, Kennedy sounded serious. He gave one of my thighs a squeeze, and his blue gaze met mine. Held.
That’s what got to me. I had to work hard, but I knew how to steel myself against Kennedy’s charm. But when the man got real with me?
That I couldn’t take.
I didn’t do intimacy. There hadn’t been room for it growing up because every emotion, every angry or sad outburst was considered a deficiency. A weakness. There certainly hadn’t been a place for that in my family or the Navy. Not until someone died or came close to being killed.
So when it happened–when I’d let my guard down with Kennedy, and he’d let his down with me–there had been no container for it. No place to go once we’d shown each other our true selves that one time in Qatar.
Then, we’d both still been enlisted. Had orders to follow. Lives to save. Missions to complete. After that one night, we’d needed to pour ourselves back into our uniforms and go on being the sailors we were trained to be.
We’d gone our separate ways to help save the world.
Now, though? The situation was even worse. We were out of the military. Dating was possible. Long-term relationships were happening all around us. Ford and Hayes had fallen in love and fallen hard. The idea that I possibly could have a real relationship with a guy scared me.
I didn’t think I was cut out for that because it meant someone could see every one of my weaknesses and use them against me.
Even if I were open to a relationship, I would never choose Kennedy. He was a heartbreaker, through and through. He’d be the least safe choice I could possibly pick.
Why, then, could I not stop thinking about what it would be like with him?
I backed out from between Kennedy’s knees, pulling away from his touch. “Next time wear a dang helmet,” I growled as I stalked away.
“Hold up.” Kennedy reached for my hand, shocking me with the inappropriate gesture.
I yanked it away and shot right up against him. “Are you crazy?” I hissed in a low voice, glancing around. We were alone, but it might not be for long. “You don’t get to hold my hand. Try it again, and I’ll chop yours off.”
His brows shot up in amused surprise, but he didn’t let me go. “Hang on, sweets.”
I stalked out of the small rented house we were using as our home base for the night, but Kennedy was right on my ass.