Read Online unForgivable (An inCapable World Novel Book 2) by Sara Hubbard - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sara Hubbard
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away now. I close my eyes.
“Let me clean this for you. You might need a few Steri-strips.”
“Huh?”
“Your wound.”
“Oh…right.”
There’s a recliner to my left and I reach down to feel for it before lowering myself, my eyes inches from his taut body. The smell of him is divine, like the Axe in the bathroom but stamped with his own personal scent…earthy…like cedar and cigars. It’s...comforting...safe... It kind of reminds me of being young again and living in Poland. Of staying out late in the woods and playing with friends. If I close my eyes, it’s like I can smell the trees and the burning woodstoves in the distance.
When I’m sitting with my hands crossed on my lap, he kicks over the ottoman until it lands in front of me. He cocks his leg over mine and sits, straddling my closed legs with his, then he grips my waist and pulls me to the edge of my seat.
I swallow a hard lump in my throat and lose my breath. The way he looks at me…like nothing else in the room exists. I know he’s focused on my cut, but for a moment I let myself believe that he’s focused on me—on the girl inside, beneath the pretty face and hair. I wonder if he can see me—the real me—that no one else has ever wanted to take the time to find.
He reaches for the medical bag on the end table, and his chest brushes against my arms. Chills overwhelm me and a tingling sensation radiates through my body. He stops and turns to me, as if he felt me shiver, and when he’s sitting up straight again, he holds my gaze before opening his kit. He pulls out some gauze and soaks it with a solution. With the gentlest touch, he dabs my cut and as he pulls the gauze away, I see spots of crimson. I thought the cut had stopped bleeding, but apparently not.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“It’s nothing.” He takes another piece of gauze and does the same thing. I flinch as the solution stings my tender flesh.
“No…not this.” I point to my head. “I mean…looking after Mickey and letting us basically crash here…even after Carrie left. That’s more than I can ask of a friend, let alone a stranger.”
“I know you, Beth,” he says. “I know you better than you think.”
“Because of Mona?”
He nods. “She had a lot to say about you over the years.”
“I still don’t buy this pen pal thing.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“So are you helping me for Mona? Or for Carrie?”
He sighs, and as he removes some thin white strips from plastic packaging, a flash of sadness crosses his face. “Both.” He pauses a beat. “Carrie told me Mona was murdered. I…don’t even know what to say about that.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone. I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet, because I feel like when I go back to her place she’ll still be there, waiting in the background for when I need her. Or waiting to shout out a snarky comment just because she can.”
“Yeah. I’d like to say it gets easier, but…”
“That’s comforting,” I deadpan.
He frowns. “I just mean you’ll get used to it and it won’t consume you after a while, but it’ll always be there, like a hole dug out in your chest that you just can’t quite fill no matter how hard you try.”
“Did you lose someone?”
“I’ve lost a lot of someones. Brothers. Not by blood, though…”
“The men you worked with? In the Marines?”
He clears his throat and nods before pressing some of the cut strips over my cut. “You expect some people might die when you deploy, but it doesn’t make it any easier when it happens…or when it happens in front of you.” His hand lingers at my brow before his rough thumb strokes my skin.
“Are you real?”
“Real?”
“You just…you’re easy to talk to…and you seem…” Sincere. Honest. Different . It is an act? Is he playing with me?
With raised eyebrows, he sits patiently, waiting for me to finish and I just can’t. He makes me feel vulnerable and I can’t afford
“Let me clean this for you. You might need a few Steri-strips.”
“Huh?”
“Your wound.”
“Oh…right.”
There’s a recliner to my left and I reach down to feel for it before lowering myself, my eyes inches from his taut body. The smell of him is divine, like the Axe in the bathroom but stamped with his own personal scent…earthy…like cedar and cigars. It’s...comforting...safe... It kind of reminds me of being young again and living in Poland. Of staying out late in the woods and playing with friends. If I close my eyes, it’s like I can smell the trees and the burning woodstoves in the distance.
When I’m sitting with my hands crossed on my lap, he kicks over the ottoman until it lands in front of me. He cocks his leg over mine and sits, straddling my closed legs with his, then he grips my waist and pulls me to the edge of my seat.
I swallow a hard lump in my throat and lose my breath. The way he looks at me…like nothing else in the room exists. I know he’s focused on my cut, but for a moment I let myself believe that he’s focused on me—on the girl inside, beneath the pretty face and hair. I wonder if he can see me—the real me—that no one else has ever wanted to take the time to find.
He reaches for the medical bag on the end table, and his chest brushes against my arms. Chills overwhelm me and a tingling sensation radiates through my body. He stops and turns to me, as if he felt me shiver, and when he’s sitting up straight again, he holds my gaze before opening his kit. He pulls out some gauze and soaks it with a solution. With the gentlest touch, he dabs my cut and as he pulls the gauze away, I see spots of crimson. I thought the cut had stopped bleeding, but apparently not.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“It’s nothing.” He takes another piece of gauze and does the same thing. I flinch as the solution stings my tender flesh.
“No…not this.” I point to my head. “I mean…looking after Mickey and letting us basically crash here…even after Carrie left. That’s more than I can ask of a friend, let alone a stranger.”
“I know you, Beth,” he says. “I know you better than you think.”
“Because of Mona?”
He nods. “She had a lot to say about you over the years.”
“I still don’t buy this pen pal thing.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“So are you helping me for Mona? Or for Carrie?”
He sighs, and as he removes some thin white strips from plastic packaging, a flash of sadness crosses his face. “Both.” He pauses a beat. “Carrie told me Mona was murdered. I…don’t even know what to say about that.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone. I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet, because I feel like when I go back to her place she’ll still be there, waiting in the background for when I need her. Or waiting to shout out a snarky comment just because she can.”
“Yeah. I’d like to say it gets easier, but…”
“That’s comforting,” I deadpan.
He frowns. “I just mean you’ll get used to it and it won’t consume you after a while, but it’ll always be there, like a hole dug out in your chest that you just can’t quite fill no matter how hard you try.”
“Did you lose someone?”
“I’ve lost a lot of someones. Brothers. Not by blood, though…”
“The men you worked with? In the Marines?”
He clears his throat and nods before pressing some of the cut strips over my cut. “You expect some people might die when you deploy, but it doesn’t make it any easier when it happens…or when it happens in front of you.” His hand lingers at my brow before his rough thumb strokes my skin.
“Are you real?”
“Real?”
“You just…you’re easy to talk to…and you seem…” Sincere. Honest. Different . It is an act? Is he playing with me?
With raised eyebrows, he sits patiently, waiting for me to finish and I just can’t. He makes me feel vulnerable and I can’t afford
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