The Sky We Seek (Love and Other Dreams #2)

Chapter 12

Noah

I observe the city girl as she tends to my wound with a level of patience I could never muster.

The sparkly stones on her glasses shimmer when she moves her head, and the silk blouse hugs her collarbone. I would never have guessed she was a doctor. I would have thought she was a business lady, and if she were to take off her white coat, everyone would think the same.

The blouse, the perfectly styled hair, the light fabric trousers, and the subtle perfume all speak for themselves. Only the colorful necklace around her neck doesn't quite fit in. It gives off a cheerful rather than a chic vibe.

"Tell me, how do you feel?" she asks, and her overly long lashes flutter open again. For a split second, she looks deep into my eyes, and I'm afraid she might see right through me.

I quickly clear my throat. "I'm fine."

"Tell me again how the injury happened." Her voice carries a hint of determination.

That's not important.

"You cut yourself with a saw. But how exactly did it happen?" she asks, turning her attention back to my injury. She flushes the wound, then resumes her search for wood splinters. With her left hand, she stabilizes my thumb. Despite the latex glove, her touch feels warm. "Answer me, Noah."

This won't lead anywhere. What does she gain from me telling her? "I was cutting a wooden board," I admit with a sigh, so she realizes there are no secrets to uncover here. And certainly nothing she could gossip about to the sensation-hungry villagers.

"So you're not a forester," she murmurs with a playful smile. Cute wrinkles form around her lips. "How long have you been working with wood?"

If I weren't so incredibly tired, I'd shrug. "As long as I can remember."

Her eyebrows rise. "Hmm."

What does that mean? What does she mean by hmm ?

Something about her demeanor suddenly makes me nervous, but I can't put my finger on it.

Perhaps it's her knowing expression even though she couldn't possibly know anything. Or her hand holding mine. Maybe it's the way she's now pursing her lips into a small pout.

"You must have a lot of experience with saws, right?" With a triumphant expression, she pulls out a particularly large wood splinter from the wound and drops it into the metal bowl beside my hand. The dull clattering it produces is all that can be heard for a moment.

"Yeah," I finally admit. Only an idiot wouldn't realize they've just been caught.

Once again, she raises her gaze. Once again, she looks at me intensely with her deep blue eyes, causing the hair on my forearms to stand up. "So..."

"I was momentarily distracted, that's all." I try to sound firm, but I can even hear how unsteady my words sound. "These things happen to the best of us," I quickly add, so she has no reason to continue probing. Because I definitely won't tell her that for weeks now, I've been feeling drained as if someone has sucked all the energy out of me. She would surely suspect an illness, and I even know which one.

"Understood," she says, continuously studying me. Meanwhile, she bites her lower lip, which grows increasingly intense in color.

This needs to stop. I nod toward my hand. "I have things to do today."

Suddenly, her expression darkens. It's as if I've hurt her even though that's not the case at all. ?You’d better cancel your plans. I need to repair some vessels before I can close the wound,? she says, and goes back to work.

She removes the remaining bits of wood from the injury in a noticeably silent manner, rinses everything meticulously, and dabs the wound dry. It's barely bleeding now. I'm sure it will heal on its own.

"The vessels are fine. You don't need to stitch them up," I tell her.

"Are you a doctor?" Without looking at me, she pushes herself up from her stool and walks to the cabinet by the window.

"No, I'm not."

"Then you better leave that decision to me." Calmly, she replaces the cloth beneath my hand, spreads out the clattering stitching tools, and gets to work.

It doesn't take long for my eyes to droop. I fight against it, not wanting to give her any more reasons to interrogate me further.

"So you have concentration problems," she suddenly says into the silence between us. It's clearly not a question but a statement.

Heaven, why can't she just let it go? "I'm doing excellent."

"When you repaired my stove the other day, you seemed unusually tired," she continues as if she hadn't heard me. "And confused," she adds.

Great. "That's your imagination," I quickly retort even though my gut feeling tells me it won't help either.

"When was the last time you had your blood tested?" With skillful movements, she guides the curved needle through my wound. She appears completely focused, yet she can still effortlessly think about my overall health.

"Listen, nothing is wrong with me. Everything is fine." As if on cue, my temples start throbbing. I suppress the urge to massage them. "Really."

She cuts the thread and sets the needle aside. "If that's the case, then you have nothing to fear if I take a few vials of blood and send them to the lab."

Oh, but I do mind! "Haven't I lost enough blood today?"

"A man like you..." For a moment, she looks at me in a way that makes me swallow hard. "... can handle it." Her grin is sugary sweet, and her lashes flutter excitedly.

I can't help but stare at her. I probably look like a dumb idiot to her right now. But my mind is so blank that I can't come up with a response.

Suddenly, she looks startled. "Alright, then we've settled that." Hastily, she turns her attention back to my thumb and inspects the wound. "Yep. I can close it now," she says even though from a distance and without her silly glasses, I can see that there are still several injured blood vessels left untreated.

So that's how it is. The city mouse is more cunning than she appears at first glance. No one can deceive me so easily. But she's different.

"Chapeau," I say admiringly, pretending to tip my hat with my uninjured hand.

Her smile is brighter than any light I've ever seen. She performs a small curtsy with her head bowed. When she looks up again, her cheeks are flushed. And they remain that way until she says her goodbyes twenty minutes later, with a mischievous grin on her face and five filled blood collection tubes in her hand.