* * *
Cady sat holding his hand until she was sure he was good and out, not wanting to disturb his rest. Ethan didn’t so much as twitch when she got up though, dead to the world for all intents and purposes. Moving through the room slowly, she cleaned up the mess of bloody towels and gauze, watching him carefully, but Ethan didn’t budge.
There was a sort of weariness that had seeped into her bones, but Cady didn’t think she could sleep. Instead she tossed the bloody mess into the tub and rinsed them out as best she could, though she didn’t think the fluffy towels would ever be white again. Only when she straightened and noticed the smear of blood on the outside of the tub did she remember that she was covered in the stuff herself.
The bathroom mirror was covered by a white rectangle of cloth she hadn’t noticed before in her haste, but she pulled it free now, staring at herself in the mirror.
What a mess.
Her hands were scrubbed clean, and she’d gotten her arms free of the blood while rinsing the towels, but the rest of her looked like she’d barely survived a chainsaw massacre. She’d had her shoulder under Ethan’s propping him up on the way to the car, and that entire side was smeared with his blood. Her hair was matted and clumped in places too, and her clothes were completely stained. The cut across her collarbone looked angry and raw, liberally smeared with more blood. Hers? Claudio’s? Ethan’s? Whose blood, she had no idea.
Grabbing a wash cloth, she dabbed at it carefully, wincing as it stung the more she probed at it. Once it was reasonably clean, the wound started to ooze again, and Cady stared at it, worried about infection. Chewing on her lip, she decided to try and wash it out with the tea, figuring it couldn’t hurt. Padding quietly into the bedroom, she picked up the pitcher, and as an afterthought, carefully eased open a couple of his drawers, borrowing a t-shirt and a pair of workout shorts.
Stripping down to her panties, she considered hopping into the shower, but she was afraid it might wake him, and it was weird to think about showering in a complete stranger’s bathroom. Though, was Ethan really a stranger anymore? Cady didn’t think so.
She never once considered going home to change into her own clothes. Sticking around seemed like the right thing to do; Ethan might need her help at any moment. Instead, she cleaned up over the bathroom sink, rinsing out her hair, and winding it up out of the way in a messy bun. The tea stung like a bastard on the open wound, and she gaped at herself in the mirror, biting her lip to keep from swearing out loud. How could Ethan stand it? The pain faded after a few minutes, and she covered the deep scratch with a couple of Band-aids.
Deciding she could use a drink herself, she took a sip of the remaining tea, grimacing at the bitter taste. “Ugh, what kind of tea is this?” she muttered. How did he drink the stuff? Rinsing her mouth out with water from the tap, the bitter taste lingered, and her mouth felt… funny. Were her lips numb? It was probably her imagination, because the effect quickly vanished, and she felt no worse for wear.
A quick glance at her phone showed a text from Penny declaring she’d arrived home safe and sound. It was just after midnight; she still had a couple of hours before Ian came home and wondered where she was. Time enough to wash out her clothes and hang them up to dry in his bathroom. She thought the black tank top might survive, but the jeans were hopelessly ruined unless she soaked them in more blood to even out the color. Ick.
Done scrubbing for the moment, she ventured out into the rest of his apartment, satisfying her curiosity about the man. Though the layout was identical to hers, with the same scarred hardwoods, cheap linoleum and the tiny appliances, that’s where the similarity ended. Where the apartment Cady shared with her brother was overflowing with clutter, magazines, half finished craft projects mixed in with Ian’s books, and movie posters fighting for available wall space, Ethan’s place was minimalist by comparison.
The walls were completely bare, as were all the surfaces, even the battered coffee table. A quick peek in the kitchen cupboards showed very little in the way of cookware, and only two plates, two bowls, a handful of silverware. It was a bachelor kitchen to the extreme, utilitarian, with little more than a can opener and a spatula in the drawers. The fridge held two more pitchers of tea and sandwich fixings, the usual condiments, and an old Styrofoam container of Mexican food, past its prime.
There were no spices in the cupboards, nothing to indicate he knew how to cook at all, but plenty of snack foods in the small pantry, and the freezer was packed with frozen meals. The good stuff. Marie Callenders, pizza… the stuff Cady only got to buy when it was on sale. Her fingers traced over the carton of Ben & Jerry’s Fudge Brownie she found in the freezer door, but she wasn’t all that hungry, not really.
A worn leather couch and flat screen TV dominated the living room, two extra bookshelves flanking the custom built entertainment center. Crammed on each shelf were DVD cases for movies of every conceivable genre.
“Jackpot,” she murmured. Cady loved movies. Loved them. She went every chance she got, which unfortunately, wasn’t all that often. Her own movie collection was much smaller, and she hated having to wait for DVD’s to hit the bargain bin before she could snap them up. Ian had reduced their Netflix account to streaming only when his hours got cut at work, and it killed her to miss out on all the new releases.
Plucking out the new Bourne flick, she popped it into the DVD player and settled back to watch the movie with the sound turned low. Two hours later, she rose with a stretch and went to check on her patient. Ethan looked like he hadn’t moved an inch since she’d left him, and for one fleeting moment, she froze in fear until she saw the slight rise and fall of his chest. Worried he might be feverish, she gently laid a hand to his brow, but he wasn’t overly warm.
Ethan didn’t stir at all at the touch, nor when she gently tugged his boots off. Once she had the boots free, his socks followed, and then she thought he might be more comfortable if he wasn’t wearing his jeans. Watching him closely, she carefully undid his pants, and he didn’t raise any objection as she inched them down his legs.
Not bad at all…
Catching herself ogling the man in his skivvies, she briefly considered removing the boxer briefs as well, they were blood stained after all, but decided that might be pushing things too far. Instead, she found a blanket in the hall closet and covered him with it.
Briefly, she considered lying down beside him to catch forty winks herself, but decided against it. She had to think about going home soon or Ian would go ballistic. But Cady didn’t want to leave yet. She wanted to be there when Ethan woke up, there were too many questions brewing in the back of her mind after the night’s events.
Settling onto the couch, she put the movie on again, this time with the director’s commentary, but her own thoughts soon overran the muted voices on the screen.
What was the deal between Ethan and Claudio? What was with the weird chanting and stabbing his own hand? Why had he followed them in the first place? And why had Ethan been so afraid Claudio might come back?
Without realizing it, Cady drifted off to sleep, dreaming of dark eyes, and a whispered voice at her ear, murmuring things she couldn’t quite catch. It was a fitful rest and she startled awake, the display on the screen reading twenty minutes past six a.m. – Ian was going to flip his shit.
Checking her phone, Cady saw she had a half dozen texts from him and two missed calls, but it was too late (or early, depending on how you looked at it) for her to risk waking him. Besides, the damage was done. More than likely he was passed out asleep and she could get her ass handed back to her later. Much later.
A quick peek into Ethan’s bedroom found him sprawled with one arm thrown over his eyes, and she realized she’d left the lights on. She flipped them off now, but with the sky already growing lighter, it didn’t make much difference. Feeling hung over, she padded into the bathroom, blinking at her ashy complex
ion revealed in stark detail under the harsh overhead light.
“Sexy,” she grimaced, rubbing the crust of sleep away from her eyes. Leaning over to wash her face, she had to dry it on her borrowed t-shirt, she’d used up all the towels the night before. Cady’s eyes looked perkier once she was finished, but her overall pallor was… wrong. As if she’d hadn’t been sunbathing on the roof every chance she got. It went with the pounding headache though, and she reached down to look under the cabinet for Tylenol or Advil, something to chase away the blahs.
A sharp pain at her shoulder brought Cady up short, halfway through the movement, and she tugged at the neckline of the damp t-shirt to inspect the cut there. Deep red marks radiated from the cut in spidery lines, about the diameter of a grapefruit. Carefully peeling back the bandaids revealed the cut itself was crusty and dark, nearly black at the center.
“That’s never good,” she murmured, studying the wound with equal parts awe and revulsion. The skin was warm to the touch, but not feverish. Cady wondered how it didn’t hurt more now that she got a good look at it, but it only stung when she extended her arm too far. A quick search of the drawers turned up a half used tube of antiseptic ointment, and Cady smeared it all over the wound with the tip of her finger, scrubbing her hands furiously once finished.
Of course if her small cut was so bad off, she couldn’t imagine what state she might find Ethan in, and she slipped into the bedroom to get a better look at him under the blanket. Carefully, she reached for the blanket, but she’d only managed to peel it back a few inches when he grabbed her arm, pulling her down onto the bed beside him. In one swift movement, he had her wrist pinned above her head, his body half covering hers, a knife pressed to her throat.
“Whoa… it’s me,” she squeaked, holding as still as she could manage.
Ethan’s eyes lost some of their wildness as recognition set in. “Cady?”
“You were expecting someone else?” she asked, offering a wan smile.
“Shit.” He fell back against the bed, the knife disappearing back under his pillow before pressing both palms to his eyes. “What time is it?”
“About six-thirty.” Cady swallowed, taking a deep breath before she rolled over onto her good shoulder to face him. “I came to check on your wounds, which you probably just tore open again, by the way. How are you feeling?”
“I’m naked,” he observed, lifting up the blanket to peer underneath.
“Yep,” she gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, not completely.”
“You undressed me?”
He looked amused by the idea, as if that might be too much for her to handle after everything else she’d done for him the night before. “You were all bloody, I thought you might rest better without them. Which, case in point, you obviously slept so well, you completely forgot I was here or that you’ve been mortally wounded.”
“I told you, it’s not that bad,” he snorted. “I’ll be slower for a few days, but I’ll mend.”
“I still want to get a good look at the wound, make sure it’s not infected.”
“It’s fine,” he insisted, pushing himself up to a seated position on the bed, leaning back against the pillows with hardly a grimace. It shocked her to see how easily he moved after just a few hours. “You should think about going home, your brother’s probably worried sick.”
“He’ll be fine, it’s not like this is the first time I haven’t come home before.” At his raised brow, she felt the need to explain. “I don’t mean like that. I mean if we’re out and it gets too late, sometimes I’ll go home with one of my friends if it’s closer.” Though usually she did send Ian a text with a heads up.
“Still, it’s probably time for you to go.”
Cady’s brows drew together in a deep frown as she sat up, scooting to the foot of the bed. He was awfully eager for her to leave. “Fine, Mr. Grateful, I’ll go. But not before I get another look at your side.”
“It’s really not necessary…”
“Hey, I’m not letting you die of gangrene after all the hard work I did, dragging your sorry ass up here. Now stop being such a baby and let me take a look!” she demanded, hands on her hips.
“Alright, fine, if I let you change the bandage will you leave?”
“I’d be happy to,” she smiled sweetly, relishing her triumph as she retrieved the first aid kit, withdrawing the scissors and the box of gauze. If she saw one trace of infection, she was going to call 911 on his ass and get him some medical attention whether he liked it or not. She’d probably have to go wait in line at the free clinic later herself, but she pushed that unpleasant thought from her mind, focusing on the task at hand.
“You know, you could be a little more understanding. All I’m trying to do is make sure you’re alright.” Ethan made no response, his eyes closed, but she was pretty sure he was still listening to her. “It’s the least I can do at any rate. I mean, I owe you my life. Thank you for that, by the way.”
“It’s my job. Besides, you already repaid the debt by bringing me back here and patching me up, we’re even.”
“I don’t think that makes us even,” she shook her head, tugging at the sticky tape. “Without you I would have gone with him.” Joyfully, without objection. It scared the hell out of her. Cady swallowed past the sudden dryness in her mouth. “I would have…”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know.”
“You do?” His eyes popped open.
“Of course I do, I’m not stupid. I know he used some kind of hypnotism on me. I don’t do things like that, and Penny especially doesn’t do things like that.” The tape came free on one side and she made another cut on the other, as gently as she could. “What would he have done to me if you hadn’t been there?” Ethan didn’t answer, and she looked away from her task to watch him until he looked back at her. “Would he have killed me?”
“If you were one of the lucky ones.”
Another swallow, Cady nodded, focusing her attention back to the tape. The other edge came free, and she carefully peeled it back, grabbing a clean square of gauze at the ready in case it bled all over. The injury gave no sign of bleeding or tearing open at disturbing the bandage, a thick scab having formed over the wound. The skin around it was pink and healthy, though flecks of dried blood clung in a few places.
“This looks pretty good,” she breathed in relief, examining it closely. “Really good.” Not that she was an expert, but she would have thought it would take a lot longer to knit together without stitches. At the very least she expected a trickle of blood or clear fluid, based on her own experiences with cuts and scrapes. The older bruises she’d seen the night before were all but faded as well.
“I’m a fast healer,” Ethan shrugged, grabbing the free edge of the tape and pulling the rest of it off his back and other side.
“Yeah, but…” Cady watched his movements. He didn’t so much as wince at the way his body twisted when he removed the tape, and he had to be using his abdominal muscles to hold the position. And the way he’d flipped her onto the bed, that had taken real strength, and it hadn’t aggravated his injury at all. “This is pretty fast.”
Ethan lay back against the pillows again. “I thought you wanted me to get better fast.”
“I do. It’s just…” She grabbed hold of his hand, tugging at the knot of fabric. “I want to look at your hand too.” Ethan sat through it patiently, offering no explanation when she found the ridges of scar tissue on both sides of his hand, but no trace of a fresh injury at all. “I don’t understand.”
His hand covered hers, blue eyes clear and bright. “I’m a fast healer.”
Distracted by the touch, Cady looked down as his thumb passed over the back of her hand. There were too many questions about this man. “Would you really have gone through me to get to him?”
If she’d been hoping to shock him into an honest answer, Ethan gave
no sign of being rattled by the quick change in subject. “Those were just words. I couldn’t let him think you meant anything to me.”
“Did I mean anything to you?”
“You didn’t,” he admitted readily and she looked down at their joined hands.
“And now?”
His thumb made a slow circle and then withdrew. “Now, I think that tea is starting to catch up with me.” Ethan gave a lopsided grin revealing even, white teeth. Without waiting for a response he pushed himself out of bed, steady on his feet, and disappeared into the bathroom.
Cady flopped back on the bed for a moment, feeling flushed over the near-moment they’d sort of almost shared. Despite the fact that he kept ordering her to leave, he also kept reaching for her hand, that had to mean something.
“You did my laundry?” His voice came out of the bathroom and she couldn’t help but smile over the shock in his voice.
“Don’t get all excited, it was a one time thing. And I don’t iron,” she called back to him.
“Thanks,” he chuckled. The toilet flushed, then running water. Just when she started to get her hopes up that he might change his mind and ask her to stick around for a while, the next words that floated out to her were less than encouraging. “I think you should probably get moving and go home.”
“Yeah, yeah, alright,” she grumbled. “I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.” With a heave, she lurched to her feet, the room dipping and swaying as she lost her balance. Clutching at the bedside table, she missed it, and fell back against the bed. “Ethan?” she called out, a tinge of fear creeping into her voice as the room continued to spin.
“I mean it, Cady. Not that I’m not appreciative, because I am. It’s just… it’s for the best.”
“Something’s…” Cady swallowed, her vision narrowing to a pinprick of light as the darkness encroached. “…wrong.”