“Sure. You like to say that, don’t you?”
“Are you—are you mad at me for getting hurt?”
“No! No, baby, I’m sorry. I was just worried about you getting hurt, and then to see you actually were...” He shifted his hold on me, wrapped his arms around me, pulled me in close, and pressed a kiss to my temple. “I’m sorry, Juls.” He sounded tired, and he dropped his head against mine, like he was too exhausted to hold himself up.
“Are you okay?” I asked him.
“I’m fine. Just happy to finally have you in my arms.” He didn’t sound happy though.
He led me the remaining few steps to the sink, gentler this time, and cradled my hand as he carefully unwrapped my makeshift bandage.
“What happened?”
“I was washing a knife.”
“I have to clean it, baby, and it’s going to hurt. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Do what you need to do.”
It was barely okay. He held it under the running water and washed it with soap and water longer and with more force than I ever would have.
I squirmed, but his grip on my arm didn’t budge. “That’s enough. The knife was clean. I already washed it.”
“With the sponge, the germiest thing in the damn house.”
I sighed. He’d stop when he felt it was thoroughly disinfected and not a second earlier.
“I have butterfly bandages in my car. I’ll get them after I finish cleaning it.”
”No need. I have some here.”
“Of course you do. I knew it, I knew you’d get hurt somehow.” He muttered the words under his breath, but they hurt like he’d screamed them. Like he’d slapped me with them.
“Stop!”
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Dylan spun to face me, his eyes wide and scared.
“Yes.”
Dylan cradled my hand and carefully examined my cut as though, if only he could see it better, he could fix it.
“Not that. What you said.”
“What did I say?” He looked completely clueless, and that made me even more mad. He should know me well enough to know why that hurt.
He shut off the water and wrapped a paper towel around my thumb, holding it tightly with one hand, wrapping his other hand around my waist and pulling me against his chest. “I’m sorry, baby. What did I say?” he whispered against my temple.
I pushed away from him. “You said you knew I’d get hurt. You think I have the bandages because I get hurt all the time. I don’t.”
“I never said any of that.”
“You did. I may be clumsy, but I’ve never been seriously injured.”
He just looked at me, guilt in his eyes.
“Why did you cancel our plans, Dylan? Why have you been angry and accusatory since the second you walked in?”
“It’s too much, always worrying about you. I just wanted you home where you’d be safe, and you still hurt yourself.”