Page 14 of Escaped (Snowbound with a Stranger #3)

Sterility

Erin

It was like I was in a dream. My eyes were open and my heart was beating, but it seemed as though I was walking through treacle-laced fog. I saw Owen moving around me, noticed his arms moving and acknowledged he was talking, but his words were deceptively vague. I recognized the language, yet somehow, I couldn’t make my brain process the words.

“Erin!”

It took a moment for me to realize Owen was actually talking to me.

“Erin, are you okay?”

His tone was part curt frustration and part concern.

“Yes.”

Suddenly, as if someone had just flicked on the light switch, I was back there in the room with him, my attention honed and flitting from Owen to Eli.

“What can I do?”

“I’ll need boiling water.”

He nodded to the door.

“The kitchen’s that way.”

“Right.”

Boiling water. I can do that.

“And bring a few sharp knives.”

His brow furrowed as he no doubt considered how on Earth he was going to remove the bullet without the appropriate medical equipment.

“There’s a block on the counter and there are more in the cutlery drawer.”

“Give me a few minutes.”

Dashing from the lounge, I hurried around the expanse of his house until I found the enormous kitchen.

I might have spent more time marveling in my brother’s luxury had my insides not been contracting with painful anxiety, but I was on autopilot, finding the kettle and refilling it before leaving it to boil.

“Knives…”

Staring around the marble-topped counter, I spotted the block Owen had spoken about and pulled it toward me. Assessing the smaller blades, I tried to decide which would be the best type to slice into Eli’s skin.

“Oh, God.”

Leaning against the side, I pulled in a breath.

How has it come to this?

I’d forever be grateful that Owen was prepared to help, but the fact that I was standing in his kitchen, considering the best blade he could use to cut Eli open was unfathomable.

Searching around in his cupboards for a vessel to carry the boiling water in, I tried to distract myself from the woe.

Everything would be okay. It had to be okay. After everything I’d been through in the last few days, I couldn’t conceive a world without Eli in it. It wasn’t just the passion we enjoyed that motivated me, but the traumatic experiences we’d shared. How could I go on without someone who understood what had happened, who I was, and how it had affected me? I needed Eli to survive, to be well, and to help me heal.

I glanced up as the kettle boiled, choosing the largest jug I could find and placing it on the counter. Selecting a number of small knives, I tried not to think as I poured the water into the jug. It was easier to just pretend everything was normal. I was cleaning up around my brother’s house—no big deal. Hopefully, that normalcy would see me through whatever transpired next.

Holding the knives carefully, I collected the jug and carried it slowly back to the lounge. Owen had switched on a powerful lamp behind his sofa, the bulb casting bright light over Eli’s torso, and my brother was kneeling over Eli as I walked in.

“How are you feeling, Eli?”

Owen spoke to him calmly.

“Better since the whiskey.”

I heard the grin in Eli’s voice as I placed the jug down beside the crystal tumblers. Sitting there, topless, Eli’s face was still pale, but the alcohol had pooled small red patches at his cheeks. His body, though, was covered in bruises from the beating Hawkins’ hospitality had gifted him, and inwardly, I cringed at the sight of his suffering. He’d been through so much—largely as a result of trying to protect me—and somehow, I’d remained essentially unscathed.

Moving closer, I saw that Owen had draped a number of towels around him. One over Eli’s lap, one behind his back covering his leather sofa, and another propped up under the affected arm.

“Can I have another, Doc?”

Eli winked at me as I wandered toward him.

“Another sip, maybe.”

Owen reached for one of the tumblers and passed it to him with one glove-covered hand.

“I don’t want you to be inebriated, but I understand it’s the only pain relief we have.”

Owen glanced my way fleetingly while Eli slugged at the drink, his focus reverting to his impromptu patient as he took the glass from him.

“Erin, you’ll need a pair of gloves.”

Owen signaled to the box beside the jug of boiling water.

“This could get messy.”

Wandering to the box, I pulled out a pair of the cream, latex gloves, trying not to dwell on how Owen had expressed the thought.

“I need you to hold the towel under Eli’s arm.”

Owen went on, motioning to Eli’s injured shoulder.

“And try and keep him still.”

“Don’t think I can handle the pain?”

Eli’s tone was wry.

Owen chuckled at Eli’s sardonic comment.

“You’ve coped with the gunshot, I suppose, but I’m not going to lie; this is going to hurt like hell.”

Eli leaned back against the headrest and blew out a breath.

“Now, there’s a switch.”

“You can do it.”

Walking back to Eli’s side, I took his hand and squeezed his fingers.

“You’re one of the strongest men I’ve ever met.”

“Present company excepted, I assume.”

It was Owen’s turn to smirk.

“Of course.”

I met my brother’s gaze.

“We’re so grateful for this.”

“I’m thankful now,”

Eli added.

“Maybe don’t ask me again in five minutes.”

“Okay.”

Owen chuckled.

“I’ve assessed the wound and confirmed the bullet is lodged in there. Fortunately, it doesn’t look as though it’s too deep into your tissue, so let’s give this a go.”

“Do it.”

Eli’s jaw tightened as I settled into position beside him.

Grabbing the towel, I held it under his arm and moved away to give Owen space. I watched as he used the antibacterial gel to clean the tweezers and the blades I’d selected, choosing the thinnest knife before he straddled Eli’s body.

“No offense, but I prefer it when your sister does this to me.”

Eli’s laughter was hollow.

“Yeah, this is not how I saw my day going, either.”

Owen shook his head.

“But here we are. Are you ready?”

There was a pause as the two men exchanged a look.

“I’m ready.”

Eli turned his head to look at me, his body braced for what I could only imagine was going to be excruciating pain.

A part of me wanted to look away as Owen hovered the blade over Eli’s shoulder, but a larger facet sought to console the man who’d shifted so much in me.

“It’s okay.”

Tension echoed in my voice as I attempted to soothe him.

“It’ll be okay.”

Eli’s gray eyes met mine as Owen shifted, his lips twitching as I gripped his fingers. In that second, I wondered what he was thinking. Was he worrying about the imminent pain, or, staring into my eyes, was he thinking about the chemistry between us? I hoped the latter thought would offer limited solace in the moments to come.

“Fuck!”

Eli muttered the word as the blade sliced into his skin.

“Towel, Erin,”

Owen barked, gesturing to the initial blood flow rolling down his midriff.

“Okay.”

Dropping Eli’s hand, I dodged behind Owen to press the towel against Eli’s washboard stomach. “Better?”

“Just try and stem the flow as much as you can.”

Owen’s voice was strained as he worked and, momentarily, I caught sight of the bloody mess he was making.

“Jesus Christ.”

Eli’s head swung in my direction, his expression etched with the trauma of the event. “Erin.”

“I’m here.”

I reached for him with my free hand, pressing the towel harder against his torso as I ducked out of Owen’s way.

“It’s deeper than I’d hoped.”

Owen pushed the words out through gritted teeth.

“But I see it.”

“Fuck.”

Eli squeezed his eyes closed, his grip on my fingers tightening.

“Tweezers, Erin,”

Owen commanded. “Now.”

Leaving the towel on Eli’s abdominals, I twisted to collect the instrument Owen wanted. Usually, I’d have had a strong opinion about taking orders from my brother, but those were exceptional circumstances. If he could help Eli to heal, I’d have considered almost anything he wanted.

“Here.”

I passed the tweezers under Owen’s left arm, waiting while he took them from me.

“Take this knife,”

he retorted, lowering the blade toward me.

“Put it in the hot water.”

I moved on autopilot, doing as he asked and watching Eli’s blood mingle in the water when I dropped the blade into the filled jug.

“Almost there…”

I wasn’t sure Owen’s running commentary was helping, but stroking Eli’s hand, I hoped it was offering some small consolation.

“Got it!”

Triumph rang out in Owen’s voice.

“Erin, pass the jug of water this way.”

I rushed to help, leaving Eli’s hand before I collected the jug and passed it in Owen’s direction. A moment later, he shifted back and dropped the bullet and the tweezers into the hot water, his attention returning to his patient.

“Get another towel, please,”

he instructed, gesturing to the spare ones on the arm of the sofa.

I’d rarely seen the authoritative version of my brother before, but I responded, darting to pass him what he needed before I collected Eli’s hand once more.

“Is it over?”

Eli swallowed, his head turning tentatively in Owen’s direction.

“I need to close this wound.”

Owen peered over his shoulder at me.

“Erin, can you run and grab my first-aid kit, please? I have steri-strips in there.”

“Okay.”

Tugging off my gloves, I folded them into a pile by the jug of water and ran back to the bathroom. I found the kit where Owen had left it, grasping it before I chased back to the two men who’d become the center of my existence. I found Owen, no longer straddling my lover, but now looming over his injured shoulder, applying pressure to the place he’d just removed the bullet from.

“These?”

I fumbled with the box, waving the strips at Owen.

“Yes,”

he replied.

“I’ll need them one at a time, but you’ll need fresh gloves on first.”

I worked quickly, pulling the fresh latex over my fingers before I tackled the box. The strips were difficult to manage with the additional layer, but somehow, I managed, peeling the first strip away from the plastic before offering it to Owen.

“Here’s the first one.”

Owen took it from me slowly, releasing the pressure on the then bloody towel as he set about securing the strip.

“Next one, please.”

One by one, I handed the strips to my brother, watching as he set about trying to repair the flesh of Eli’s shoulder.

“How’s the pain?’ Owen asked, his attention landing back on his patient.

“Fucking awful.”

Eli spat.

“But at least the bullet’s out. Thanks.”

“Even with these strips, there’s still a very real risk of infection, Eli.”

Owen had employed his ‘doctor voice’. The one I imagined him using when he was at work.

“And you’ll have to be careful with the strips for a few days.”

“I understand.”

Eli scowled.

“I’ll take care of him,”

I added.

“Thank you, Owen.”

Shifting from the sofa, he nodded at me.

“I did it for you, sis. You know how important family is to me.”

“Yeah.”

I did know, and standing there, I couldn’t fathom why I hadn’t been in more regular contact with him.

“Which brings me to what I need to tell you.”

Owen frowned, and suddenly, I could see the hurt in his eyes—an emotion I hadn’t noticed until that moment.

“What’s wrong?”

I reached for Owen’s hand, one latex finger brushing another.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen before. I was worried about Eli, but you have my attention now, Owen. What did you want to tell me?”