Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…
"Are you sure you're okay? You don't need to go to the hospital?"
Nick's protective streak was a mile wide and as annoying as hell.
"I'm fine. Just don't let you know who find out what happened. Please, I'm begging you." I pleaded with him not to tell Catherine. Even though we had broken up almost two months ago, the guys still acted like we were together sometimes. They meant well—they really did. I think somewhere in the backs of their minds they had reconciled that it was their sole purpose to try and fix what had happened between us and bring us back together.
I looked up at his reflection in the mirror as I dabbed at the cut and slow but steady stream of blood trickling down over my cheekbone. He shifted his weight to his other foot and reluctantly agreed.
"It's not like I have to tell her anyway," he countered. "She's gonna wanna know where you got what's going to turn into a pretty nice shiner there, Sar. And then you're gonna be in even more trouble for not telling her, girl."
I knew he was right. He was almost always right. It was an unwritten rule though—I had to ask him not to tell her about stuff that I knew would worry her. Inside, however, I really wanted her to burst through the door he was blocking and rush to my side to make sure I really was okay.
"We're not together anymore. I don't owe her any explanations. Besides, it's not like it matters anyway. She's gotten too close to suspects before, too."
I had lowered my head once again to splash water over the cut and didn't notice that Nick had left his perch in the doorway.
"If I recall correctly, every time I got too close to a suspect you had something to say about it."
Shit. I snapped my head up and looked in the mirror. Standing where Nick had been was Catherine, and she had obviously heard part of what I had meant for his ears only. I silently cursed him for his lack of a head's up on her entrance and his departure.
I noticed her eyes narrow and before I could respond to her, she took four quick steps to my side and spun me around. Her fingers moved cautiously over my cheekbone.
"Oh, Sar," her voice was tender and loving as she invaded my personal space. "Sweetie, what happened?"
She took the cloth from my hand and wiped carefully along the edge of the laceration. I couldn't help but wince as soon as she applied the slightest pressure. And the endearment she had long ago ceased to use with me nearly brought me to tears as I realized—for the first time—that this could have been much worse than a cut and an impending black eye.
I couldn't answer her. All I could do was bite my bottom lip and close my eyes. I knew I had fucked up. I had been careless. And the last thing I wanted—or needed—was for her to point that out. It would just be one more reason…one more justification…
"Are you going to tell me what happened or do I need to ask Nick about it?"
She lifted my chin to force me to look at her and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind my ear before she smiled sadly. I closed my eyes, unwilling to see the disappointment I knew would taint her blue eyes.
"It was nothing, Catherine. I," words were failing me. "I just said the wrong thing at the scene and found myself a little too close to the fist of a suspect."
Her hands left me briefly and I heard her step away. I was just about to open my eyes again when her hands once again fluttered over the raw, bruising skin of my cheek.
"This may hurt, but it should keep you from needing stitches." She placed a few Steri-Strips over my cut and then let her hands glide down to take mine. "If the swelling doesn't go down, we may need to go and get an X-Ray. We don't want you walking around with a fractured cheekbone or eye socket."
I could only nod my agreement as my ability to speak had deserted me with her close proximity and gentle touches.
"Be careful, okay? I can't lose you," she said with a squeeze of my hands and a fleeting kiss on my uninjured cheek before turning and leaving me standing there leaning back against a sink.