Page 43 of The Way Home

“It’s okay,” Caleb said calmly. He ducked his head to Jamie’s eye level and studied his face. “Hey, look at me. Do you know where you are?”

Jamie nodded. “Yeah. Your—erm,ourflat.”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No.”

“Where does it hurt?”

Jamie glanced down at his hand and quickly squeezed his eyes shut. “Uh, just my hand.”

“Stay right here, okay?” Caleb rushed into the kitchen and came back with an emergency kit. He whipped it open and started to clean Jamie’s hand.

Bile rose in Jamie’s throat from the slimy feel of the blood. The room tilted.

“What day is it?” Caleb asked.

Jamie swallowed. “Tuesday.”

“Okay. Good.” Caleb’s eyes met his again. “Stay with me, J. Eyes on me, alright? Don’t look at your hand. I know you hate blood. Just look at me.”

“It’s just—there.” Jamie pointed at the small puddle of blood he’d made on the floor. His vision started to blur.

“Here.” Caleb quickly stripped off his T-shirt and covered it. “Better?”

Jamie nodded slowly as Caleb rummaged around in the kit. He wore soft-looking joggers and no shirt, the definition of his muscles catching the light streaming in from the living room.

The nausea began to fade, and Jamie made himself focus onCaleb—not the blood. Specifically, Caleb’sface.Because he didn’t want to ogle the man who was being nice enough to take care of him. It would be rude to stare at the defined ridges of lean muscle, or the definition of the abs that trailed down into his gym pants, leading directly to…

Right,notogling.

Caleb scrunched his eyebrows in concentration as he gently opened a small bandage. He pressed his lips into a tight line, the muscles in his jaw twitching slightly. Bloody hell, his jaw was cut. Jamie had the absurd impulse to reach out and brush his knuckles along it.

“You’re good at that,” Jamie slurred, not realizing that he was swaying a bit.

“It’s my job, remember?” Caleb winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I know you don’t remember.”

“Actually, yeah. I remember you’re an athletic—ow,”he hissed through his teeth as Caleb wiped the cut.

Caleb looked up apologetically and said, “Sorry, I should have warned you. I just need to clean it with alcohol so it doesn’t get infected. It should be fine now.”

Caleb quickly and efficiently bandaged Jamie’s hand. With a sigh, he sat back on his heels. “Do you have any neck pain?”

“No.” Jamie rotated his neck slowly. “Feels fine.”

“Are you sure? Did you get dizzy and fall?”

Jamie’s heart sank from the concern etched all over Caleb’s face. He was such a dick for making him worry.Again.

“Yeah. I’m sure,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster. “I feel fine, Caleb. I’m just clumsy. That’s all.”

Not looking convinced, Caleb started to pack up his emergency kit. In a moment of weakness, Jamie admired the way Caleb’s back muscles rippled as he cleaned up.

“You said you remember that I’m an athletic trainer,” Caleb asked, jolting Jamie from his stupor. “Do you—what else do you remember about me?”

“Oh, um. Well, I remember meeting you. At the pub. I rememberthat whole night, actually.” His cheeks heated, and he looked down at his fingernails.

“You do?”