“The bullet at least missed any major artery and ligament,” The doctor noted, pushing a needle through my flesh and pulling my skin together after he pulled the bullet from my shoulder. “You should be able to use your full range of motion in the next three days,” He assured, cutting the thread and tapping a plaster over the wound.
“Thanks,” I slipped my shirt back on, wincing slightly at the stiffness occurring in my shoulder.
I felt Maxwell’s eyes on me the whole time—from the moment we arrived at the hospital and a doctor was called to remove the bullet from my shoulder. “I am thinking you are finally putting the pieces together as to why I have been struggling to keep a relationship,”
“On the contrary,” He muttered. Planting his butt down beside me on the hospital bed. Facing me.
