Page 103 of The Last Stitch

She lifted her chin, blue eyes burning. “Maybe not. But I've watched you make yours. And I don't think it cost me nearly as much as it's costing you.”

I held her gaze, neither of us willing to break first.

Adeline sighed. “For heaven's sake, just kill each other already and be done with it.”

I huffed a dry laugh, but Lily didn’t so much as crack a smile. No. She was studying me. Watching. Too damn closely.

Then, to my surprise, Lily stepped forward.

She grabbed the bandage from where I had left it, unrolling it with quick, practiced movements before she knelt beside my chair and took my wrist in her hands.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

“You’re making a mess of it,” she muttered.

The warmth of her fingers pressed against my skin, careful but unyielding. I could have yanked away. I should have. Instead, I observed her the way one observes lightning: transfixed by the beauty, mindful of the danger. The moment the cloth tightened, a tremor ran through me—as though her touch were stitching something I couldn't afford to let heal.

Adeline smirked. “Well, this is interesting.”

“Shut up,” Lily muttered, tightening the bandage just enough to sting.

“Taking out your frustrations on me?” I said.

“Someone has to.”

The words were sharp, but there was something else beneath them.

I narrowed my eyes, watching her more closely. She was doing everything in her power to avoid my gaze.

“Something's wrong,” I said. “What is it?”

Her fingers faltered. She didn't answer. Just finished tying off the bandage with sharp, angry movements and stood.

“Lily—”

“You leave ruin everywhere you go,” she muttered, turning away.

I leaned into the chair-back, testing the wrap. “I didn’t request a nurse.”

“No. But violence offends me. Even self-inflicted violence.” She wouldn't meet my eyes. I hated it. Hated all of it.

The way she was looking at me now. The weight behind it. I needed to push her away.

“Don't think this changes anything. You may play the part of a lost historian well, but I know there's more to you than that.”

Something flickered across her face—hurt, disappointment—before she schooled her features back to neutrality.

“Believe me, August. I don’t care what you think.”

But the slight tremor in her hands as she set down the bandage roll told a different story. I let her have it. Because I needed her to stop looking at me like that.

I reached for the whiskey again as Adeline sighed. “Come on, Lily. Let’s leave him to wallow in whatever self-loathing spiral he’s got going on.”

Lily hesitated. Then she turned and followed Adeline out.

I rubbed a thumb over the fresh bandage, knuckles pulsing beneath linen. This was exactly what I wanted. What I needed. Then why the hell did it feel like I was losing?

CHAPTER 30