Ian didn’t think he would collapse in front of Lizzie. He hadn’t realized how serious his injury was. He was used to ignoring pain and usually healed soon enough anyway.
He stared up at the ceiling and clenched his jaws when she pressed the cotton ball against his wound.
Then, he felt the gentle, cool breeze against his wound.
Ian dropped his gaze back on Lizzie and released the breath he’d been holding.
No one had ever taken care of him like this. Not after his mother died.
He watched as she lightly blew at his wound, and the memory of her throwing herself between the homeless man and himself flitted through his mind.
“I need you to sit up,” she said.
He pushed his elbow against the couch, and Lizzie helped shift him into an upright position. He closed his eyes as the pain and heat
