“Stubborn idiot,” he muttered. “You’re going to fall over before we make it.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped, even though we both knew it was a lie.
My pride was hanging by a thread.
Gael’s eyes met mine, dark and unreadable. The space between us felt charged, the silence stretching until it was almost unbearable.
Then, with a soft sigh, he eased me back to my feet, his hold loosening but not leaving.
“There’s a cabin up ahead,” he said.
I didn’t ask how he knew. He probably spotted it with his superior vision.
I just nodded, grateful for the promise of shelter, no matter how temporary.
We pushed on, my steps slowing with every passing minute.
The pain blurred the edges of my vision, and exhaustion settled in my bones.
Gael’s grip on me grew firmer, his arm practically a lifeline. I hated it. Hated needing him.
But I couldn’t deny that without him, I’d have collapsed long ago. Finally, through the dense tangle of trees, the cabin emerged.
It was small, with faded wood and a sagging roof, but it was something. A place to hide, to breathe.
Gael didn’t wait for me to ask for help. He guided me up the creaky steps and into the dark interior.
The door groaned as it shut behind us, sealing us off from the outside world. The silence was almost deafening.
“Sit,” Gael ordered, pointing to a worn-out couch near the wall.
I bristled at his tone but didn’t have the energy to fight him.
I limped over and sank down with a low groan, my leg screaming in relief.
The cabin was cold, but it was dry, and for the moment, it felt like safety. Gael crouched in front of me, his eyes flicking to my leg.
His brow furrowed, and without a word, he started to unlace my boot.
I flinched as he eased it off, the motion sending fresh waves of pain through me.
“Jesus, give a guy a warning,” I hissed.
He didn’t respond, just focused on peeling away the blood-soaked bandage.
His fingers were gentle, surprisingly so, and that gentleness unraveled something in me.
I swallowed hard, staring at the top of his head, at the way his dark hair fell into his eyes.
“This might sting,” he muttered.
The words were barely out before he pressed a clean cloth to the wound.
Fire raced up my leg, and I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. My breath came in harsh gasps.
“Fuck,” I ground out.
Gael’s eyes lifted to mine. There was no mockery in them, no usual smirk. Just a quiet intensity that I didn’t know how to handle.
