Wounded

Chapter 4....

Brett Perkins—aka the guy who broke my heart eight years ago and left me all alone when he enrolled in the Marines. The same guy who I had never been able to get over.

Sitting there in the hospital bed, he looked the exact same, except he looked older and more rugged. Age definitely agreed with him. Gone was the boy I used to know, and in his place was a handsome man who had filled out. Somehow, he looked even better than I remembered.

Gone was the smooth young face; instead, a five o'clock shadow graced his well-sculpted jawline. The youthfulness in his face was gone and replaced by absolute ruggedness. High cheek bones, a jawline that looked like it could cut glass. His dark brown hair had grown out from the last time I saw him with a buzz cut. But what really made me freeze were his eyes.

Eyes so familiar to me, as if they were my own. Even if I hadn't recognized him at first, the moment I looked into those light green, sometimes blue, eyes, I knew it was Brett. Those eyes were what drew me in the first time I met him; that, and his bright white smile, of course.

I noticed his eyes widen in shock as he seemed to recognize me. Not that it was hard. I hadn't changed much in the last eight years. My face was thinner than it used to be; probably because I didn't eat regularly. My brown hair used to be short and was now to my lower back. My body had filled out since my teenage years; of course, he couldn't tell that underneath my scrubs.

"Kayla? Kayla Winters?" he asked. The moment he spoke, my heart fluttered. I wasn't sure how, but his voice had gotten deeper and huskier, making him all the sexier. Damn, I guess going into the Marines really did suit him.

"Brett?" I squeaked out. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes at myself.

"What are you doing here?" At that, I really did roll my eyes.

"I work here. Hence the clothing." I gestured to my plain blue scrubs. His green eyes looked me up and down, and I fought hard not to squirm under his gaze. He was looking at me funny, so I cleared my throat, remembering why I came to check on him.

Avoiding his gaze, I moved around his bed to his left side. Looking at his arm, I noticed he had second-degree burns on the top of his hand—nothing too serious. A white bandage that was stained with blood met my eye as well. His muscular arms didn't get by me either.

"Second-degree burn here, but that isn't bad at all. Just going to put some salve on it and you will have to wash it gently and apply some medication to it regularly, but it will heal within a few weeks," I said, still keeping my eyes down. I knew if I looked up I would meet those eyes and I couldn't handle that right now.

Gently grabbing the underside of his arm, I lifted it up and softly peeled back the bandage. A pretty nasty cut greeted me, but it was nothing a few stitches couldn't help. It had stopped bleeding already, which was good.

"How did this happen?" I asked, even though I knew how. I just wanted to hear his voice again.

Eight years of not hearing him, I didn't realize how much I missed the sound of his voice. Now that the shock had worn off, I was relieved that he was here, in the flesh. All these years I'd wondered if he was alive or if he got killed overseas. About five months after he left, his parents stopped speaking with me, so I had no idea how he was doing or if anything had happened. I always figured if something did happen, my parents would tell me when they heard.

So him being here, right in front of me, gave me some peace. If I didn't talk to him after this, I could live knowing he was all right and in one piece...as far as I knew.

My hands shook as I peeled the bandage all the way off. It was now really starting to hit me that Brett was here after all this time. That I was really touching the man I once loved—still loved. It was surreal.

"I helped a man out of his car that was on fire. Probably not my smartest idea, but at least he is okay." Brett spoke calmly, as if he didn't just save someone's life.

"Well, the two of you are lucky. You could have gotten hurt way worse than this." Moving around the little room, I grabbed some antiseptic and a cotton ball to clean the cut. "This is going to burn," I cautioned before placing the soaked cotton ball on the cut. I felt him flinch, but other than that, he made no sound of pain. Not wanting him to be in any pain, I quickly cleaned the cut before throwing the cotton ball away.

"Okay, I will be right back. I need to get some things to sew that wound up, and for that burn. Stay here." For the second time since I walked in, I looked up at him. He gave me a short nod and the corner of his mouth tilted up.

I didn't give myself time to smile back or say anything else as I turned around and left the room. When I was out of sight, I grabbed onto the edge of the counter in front of me. I closed my eyes and breathed heavily. I could feel my eyes started to water, and I gulped.

How could he be here? After all this time. After me waiting for him for months, years. All I wanted to do was march back in there and demand answers, but I couldn't do that. Not here. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know the answers to my questions. I wasn't sure I could handle the truth. I was already broken enough.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself. I had a job to do, and I couldn't let Brett get to me. It's going to be okay, I silently told myself. Everything's going to be okay.