Alison sat down peacefully on the couch as Nicholas tended to her injury. He cleansed her ankle's wound with delicate, cautious hands.
There was something softer in his countenance, despite the fact that his brows were wrinkled in concentration. It was something something she hadn’t seen before.
She tried not to feel anything.
But she did.
The warmth of his touch. The faint smell of his cologne. The way his eyes flickered to hers every now and then, as if checking to see if she was okay.
“You need to be more careful,” he muttered, his voice low. “Things could have gone worse.”
“I can handle it,” she replied, though her voice was losing its usual sharpness. “It’s only a scratch.”
“ Just a scratch, huh” he mocked, pretty sure he saw her limping.
Nicholas looked up; their eyes briefly
