21. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Tatum

I step out of the shower and grab my towel to dry off. I toss it into the laundry basket once I’m in my room, which is the only one that has an en suite bathroom. Since I don’t plan on going anywhere today, I shove on a pair of sweatpants—nothing else. I saw the way Devon was looking at me in the pool, so keeping a shirt off will benefit me. The more she ogles me, the more she’ll want me. The longer I don’t give in, the more it’ll eat her alive. It may even get to the point where she’s throwing herself at me for a change.

Just as I’m stepping out of my room, a cry echoes from downstairs. My feet are moving before I have time to wonder what the problem is.

“Devon?” I call out as I barrel down the stairs.

I find her leaning against the arm of the couch, holding her foot that’s crossed over the other thigh. Blood drips from it onto the floor, and her face is pinched with pain. She’s already hyperventilating .

Shit.

“Hold on, baby. I got you,” I say, running to the kitchen to grab a towel.

I’m at her side, moving her hand away and holding the towel below her foot to catch the blood. I already know what the issue is before I look at it.

“Did you get it out?” I ask.

She whimpers, shaking her head. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes, her cheeks already wet from the ones that slipped free.

I scoop her up and lay her down on the couch, careful to keep the towel beneath her foot. Running my hand through her hair, I say, “Breathe slowly, Devon. In and out. Slow.”

Her breaths are shaky, but I coach her through them. When she settles a little, I tell her I’m going to get the first aid kit and that I’ll be right back.

Devon is brave when it comes to a lot of things, but the sight of blood fucks her up.

If this were a week ago, I’d tell her it’s the least she deserves after whipping a glass jar of peanut butter down the stairs. What did she expect to happen? But I have to be nice to her right now, so the least I can do is help her through a panic attack.

I swear I thought I cleaned up every piece of glass, but apparently, I didn’t. I pull my phone from my pocket and let the front desk know to send someone up here in exactly one hour to clean the entire floor to ensure there is no more glass. By then, I’ll have Devon patched up and calmed down. Maybe taking a nap since these panic attacks take a lot out of her. This isn’t my first time witnessing this with her.

She’s shaking when I get downstairs, but her breathing is normal. I lift her feet and sit with her legs on my lap so I can get a good view of her foot. When I do, I realize blood soaked into the grey couch, which is going to be an issue.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

She sniffles. “N-no.”

I move the towel to get a better look. I see the glass that needs to be pulled out, which is a good thing. I should be able to handle it without having to take her to a hospital. It’s on the heel of her foot, off to the side. Hopefully that’ll help when it comes to healing and her having to walk. A cut on the bottom of your foot is never fun.

Devon whimpers again, so I run my hand up her leg.

“You’re going to be okay, Dev. Just don’t look at it, okay?”

“Okay,” she says through a slow breath.

I recall the day Dane got hit by the beer bottle at the party and Devon freaked out.

I felt like shit because I didn’t help her. I should have helped her like I’m helping her now, but I was too angry then. And I didn’t have a part to play. There was no reason to be nice to her that day. Still, seeing her like this now has me feeling guilty over leaving her to suffer then. That was shitty of me.

“It’s going to hurt when I take out the glass.”

“I don’t care about the pain!”

“Devon, I’m going to help you, but you need to relax.” I place my hand on her stomach. She grips it with her trembling hand. “It isn’t that bad. Once the glass is out, it’ll stop bleeding. I promise.”

She nods and turns her face away, her eyes squeezed shut. I have no idea how this girl gets through her period each month .

I open the first aid kit and dig around for everything I’ll need. The tweezers, antiseptic, gauze, and tape. Maneuvering the towel so it’s on the bottom of her heel, I grab the tweezers and carefully go in. It isn’t too big or deep. It comes out easily and she hardly flinches.

My brave girl.

With a piece of gauze, I gently touch the area to make sure there aren’t any other shards in there.

“Does it feel okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, sniffling again.

“I’m almost done.”

I press the gauze to her foot for another few seconds, then pull it away and use the antiseptic. Once it’s clean, I put clean gauze and tape over it.

“All set, baby. You want to take a nap?” She shakes her head, and I lean over to run my hand along her cheek. “You want to watch a movie?”

“Clean up the blood first, p-please.”

“Movie theatre is upstairs.”

I stand and lift her up bridal style. She doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around my neck, making me remember all the times she did it when we were younger.

“You would have a theatre in here,” she comments halfway up the stairs.

I smirk to myself but don’t respond. Once we’re in the theatre, I put her on the couch.

“I’ll be right back.”

I head downstairs to clean up the blood. Though someone will be up here to take care of it soon, I want to make sure it’s clean in case Devon has to come down here for anything. Once I’m done with that, I toss the towels in the trash and go to her room to grab a blanket and pillow from her bed. She’s already messing with the remote when I get back.

I recline her part of the couch and get her comfortable and tucked in. Then I take the remote from her and plop onto the other side.

“I am not watching The Notebook or Titanic,” I say.

“Good, because I want something funny.”

Without thinking about it, I navigate through the movies and put on Spy.

Comedy movies are one of our favorites. It was our go-to, except the times she forced me into the romance movies so she could cry and hug me. At the time, I thought it was just an excuse to hold me. Now, I’m not so sure.

“Oh, I haven’t seen this one,” she says, settling into the couch.

“It’s been a while, but I remember it being funny.”

The movie starts up, so I put the remote down and lean back.

“Tate?” I glance at Devon to find her looking at me. “Thank you,” she whispers.

I nod, not knowing what to say. A “you’re welcome” or “no problem” doesn’t feel right. Not when I still feel shitty for letting her go through that at the party…

Today was simple. She calmed down easily because I was there to talk her through it. How long was she freaking out at the party? Not only because of the blood, but because it was her brother’s blood.

When Devon doesn’t pull her gaze from mine, I can’t seem to pull mine away either. My heart pounds a little harder .

What the fuck is happening?

I get to my feet and rush by her.

“I’m going to make popcorn,” I say as I push my way into the hallway.

Clearly, I need to do better at keeping myself in check. Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s getting to me.