“I… just… stepped on something…” Annabelle spoke in broken sentences, struggling as she hopped along.
“I’m injured myself, so I can’t carry you,” Kendrick said coldly.
Annabelle glanced at him.
His tone was icy, clearly intentional—he was still upset about Gauge carrying her earlier.
But she could tell that, beneath his annoyance, he was more worried about her than anything else.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to carry her—he simply couldn’t because of his own injury.
“It’s just a small wound, it’s fine. I don’t need to be carried,” she reassured him.
“Oh? But you had no problem letting Mr. Murphy carry you?”
Annabelle wanted to bite her own tongue. “I meant… you don’t have to worry…”
Kendrick didn’t respond. Instead, he suddenly stopped walking.
“Lift your foot. Let me see.”
“No
