Page 26 of It's a Brewtiful Day
However, my brain had registered what my heart was hinting at. A heavy, self-loathing doubt laced into my words. “It’s my fault if they’ve been here, and we missed them.”
My fingertips started to tingle, and a wave of nausea settled in my gut. Suddenly, I didn’t feel very good. It was a horrible thought to have said out loud and the rising sound of my voice did nothing to help, plus the look on Elliot’s face mirrored the feelings I was fighting inside and that wasn’t helping the situation.
“It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault. It’s the crazy weather.” He reached down and grabbed my hand, aiming the lit-up display to guide our way out.
I tugged him back as the sour feeling intensified. “Is there a bathroom back here? I really need to go.”
“Yeah, it’s right here, off the staff locker area.” The light from the display moved up toward my face. “Are you okay?”
I could lie or tell the truth, and I wasn’t a good liar, Cassie had said as much.
“No. Not at all.” If I hadn’t voiced it, the tear running down my face surely announced all I was trying desperately to keep under wraps.
“We’re going to be okay, Sage. I promise. I was a Boy Scout as a child, we’ll be fine.” With the tenderest of touches, his thumb swiped across my cheek, removing the trickle of tears and replacing it with a small zing of warmth.
The sincerity in his voice and the upturned smile on the left side of his lips were hard to ignore, so I believed him even though we weren’t trapped outside and needed to build a lean-to and a fire. At least we were sheltered and had food.
He squeezed my hand. “Go use the bathroom.” He nudged toward the door with both male and female symbols on it and thrust his phone into my hand. “Take this so you can see what you’re doing.”
“Well, I know how to … you know.”
A sweet chuckle pierced the air. “Then use it to see where everything is, and you can check out your face. Make sure there’s no cut from the fall.”
“And what about you?” The pitch-black, inky darkness bothered him. A lot. And I felt guilty leaving him to manage it alone.
“I’ll stand here with my back to the door while you tell me—”
“I am not giving you a play-by-play.”
“Thank the beans for that.” His laughter was deeper, a soothing sound that put a bit of my rollingupset to rest. “Maybe tell me how you came to love reading so much.” He thumbed toward the small bathroom. “Go. I don’t want to be back here any more than we need to be.”
“Fair enough.” I stepped into the tiny bathroom and went about my business. The toilet flushing was exceptionally loud, something I never noticed in the normal hum of the everyday. Before I’d washed my hands, I opened the door.
“That was fast.”
“Still need to inspect my face but I wanted you to have some light.” I stepped back to the sink and lathered up my hands with the disgusting floral-scented soap.
Was this the way the management knew if someone washed their hands? The heavily perfumed stench was pungent. After rinsing, I scrubbed extra hard hoping to remove the smell, and then dried my hands with the sandpaper towels. Suddenly, I was super appreciative of Harvey for buying nicer soap and using plush hand towels.
“Mind if I check your face?”
I shook my head and held my breath. My heart was pounding a little harder at the mere thought of him searching my face and how I wished I’d taken more than a quick second to swipe under my eyes and tidy myself up.
Elliot grabbed his phone and turned the display toward me. “Close your eyes.”
Swallowing down a nervous knot ofexcitement, I quietly did as he instructed. My lids got brighter as he moved the flashlight across my chin, cheeks, and forehead.
“You hit your head here?” He gently touched the spot right above where it was tender, making me wince, however, there was an oddly welcome heat emanating from his fingertips that soothed as it moved.
My shoulders tensed as he brushed my hair out of the way. “Is it cut?”
His finger moved around, staying north of the sorest spot. “A little, but it’s not deep or anything, and doesn’t require stitches.”
“Well, that’s a relief, as neither of us is qualified for that.” I snickered.
His voice was low, barely above a whisper. “Youdohave a bit of a nasty bump forming, so we should keep watch for any type of concussion building, and you’ll probably score a decent bruise.”
“Awesome.” I sighed and tried to keep my voice light and airy. “Although it’s really no surprise, not to me at least.Youmaybe don’t bruise like a peach, but I sure do.” Blood rushed through my veins at warp speed, I put my fingers on his taut forearm and lowered the light away so I could open my eyes.