“Did your deck railing just break?” he asks.
I don’t answer right away, because I can’t stop watching as he takes off his baseball cap, allowing me a full view of that gorgeous hair he keeps hidden under all the hats he owns. He wipes the beads of sweat from his head using his forearm and then combs his hair back with his fingers. My mouth hangs open on its own accord as he flips the hat backward, adjusting it on his head.
“No. Yes,” I admit, feeling my words stammer. “You know, just leaning over to see the birds.”
Griffin looks up in the sky to scan the area.
“I don’t see any birds,” he says.
I look up, trying to find one single bird, but he’s right. Nothing.
“I must have scared them away.” I attempt to laugh. “But, hey, good thing I was planning to get rid of this deck and build a bigger one, huh?”
I’m still on the ground, because I refuse to get up.
With Griffin standing this close to me, I don’t want him to witness me feeling weak or in pain. I want him to believe I can handle my shit. There’s a good chance my leg is actively bleeding right now.
The adrenaline from the whole interaction is quickly wearing off, though.
I feel myself wince when I try to move, but I hide my features as best I can.
“Whatever you say,” he finally says.
I look up at him one more time and notice his eyes trailing my body. Likely assessing the situation. Hopefully, if I’m actively bleeding, I’ve hidden it well enough by lying on my stomach.
“Be more careful,” he tells me, right before turning on his heels and walking away.
I don’t take my eyes off him as he retreats to his house.
My mind is swirling with this entire situation.
Did Griffin Barlow just show that he cares about me? Am I reading too much into it?
Once he’s out of eyesight, I find the strength to lift myself off the ground. I look down at where the pain is slicing through my leg and see my entire lower right leg covered in blood.
Great.
I move to take a step, and the pain slices through me.
I’m not entirely sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a piece of wood stuck in there.
I hobble inside and realize I don’t have a single thing to help me right now. I never once thought to grab a first aid kit at the General Store when I was filling my house with supplies.
I grab a clean dish towel before turning on the water to let it run warm, knowing I’m about to ruin a solid white towel with my own blood.
The knock on the door causes me to snap my head in that direction and I spot Griffin standing on the other side of the glass with a first aid kit in his hand.
He put on a shirt too.
That’s a shame.
Okay, I definitely hit my head.
I wave a hand, signaling for him to come in. Once he crosses the threshold into my home, I feel him everywhere. This house is tiny, and he’s just too much man to be taking over this space. He makes it feel smaller, more confined.
His presence makes it hard to breathe all of a sudden.
“I saw your leg,” he says, lifting the kit to place it on the counter next to me. “Brought you some stuff to clean it up and make sure you don’t have a splinter.”
