Binding 13

My brain was untrusting and wary, but my heart wasn’t, and my body was more than happy to overcompensate for both.

I was physically attracted to him, emotionally co

It made for an awful battlefield of anguish inside of me.

Concern for this boy was rampant inside of me.

I didn’t understand it, and in this moment, I didn’t care.

The relief I felt when I stepped through that door and saw him alive and breathing was still overwhelming me. I knew he was terrified over his prospects of playing rugby, but all I could think about was that he was in one piece.

It was that overwhelming relief and concern flushing through my veins that provoked my next move.

"It's okay," I promised, taking his big hand in mine. "You're going to be okay."

Joh

I didn’t let go either.

I just pulled his hand onto my lap and held on tightly.

"I'm in pain, Sha

"I know you are," I whispered, shifting closer, fingers twitching with the urge I had inside of me to check the damage he was hiding beneath that towel. "Have they given you anything for the pain?"

Joh

"Is it helping?"

He shook his head.

"I bet you wish you hadn't wasted those ibuprofen on me now, huh?" I joked, trying to distract him from the obvious discomfort he was in. "They would've come in handy right about now."

"A tranquilizer would be helpful," he shot back glumly, his big shoulders sagging.

"Let me see you," I instructed softly.

Keeping my right hand wrapped around his, I used my left to reach over and turn his chin.

"Those fuckers," I grumbled, eyeing the purple bruising on the side of his cheek, and that cut above his brow that was once again clotting. "Your poor face."

Joh

"What's fu

"It's weird to hear you say fucker," he explained with a weary smile.

"I'm quite partial to cursing, you know," I told him, desperately trying to distract him from his pain.

"No, you're not," he replied gruffly, too clever for his own good. "You're just saying that to distract me."

"Is it working?"

He nodded stiffly. "Don’t stop."

Racking my brain for something to say, I let my gaze roam over him, absorbing every groove and hard edge until settling on the hand wrapped in mine.

His hand was big and masculine, his knuckles an odd shape from what I presumed was years' worth of rough housing. His fingers were long, his nails were cut short, and he had a long scar ru

I raised a brow at that.

Grazing my fingertips over the jagged line on the back of his hand, I asked, "What happened here?"

"Boot studs," he explained, staring down at our joined hands. "Illegal hand stamp in a ruck during a club semi-final two years ago, resulting in seven stiches and a tetanus."

I winced. "Ouch."

He expelled a harsh breath. "Yeah."

"Have you more?"

"I've a few," he replied, eyeing me curiously.

"Can I see?"

Joh

"I do," I replied, wanting to keep his mind occupied while he waited for the ambulance to come.

"I've broken this more times than I remember," Joh

My eyes widened. "Back into place?"

"Yeah." He smirked. "I was walking around the place with my nose touching my cheek."

"God," I groaned, stomach turning. "That's barbaric."

"That's rugby," he laughed and then grunted loudly, flinching in pain.

"What else?" I hurried to ask.

Releasing a pained sigh, Joh

Belly was a stupid word to use when describing him.

It was too soft, too i

Boys had bellies.

It was quite clear that Joh

Those abs and that dark trail of hair under his navel attributed to that.

Joh

"What happened?" I squeaked. "Rugby?"

"For once, no. This one happened off the pitch when I was ten," he replied. "A few of the older lads at my school dared me to jump off the cliff at Sander's Point–"

"Sander's Point?"

"It's a fifty-foot diving spot we used to hang around at back home," Joh

"Jesus," I strangled out. "You were only ten! You could've died."

"I'm bigger now." He smiled sadly. "Harder to break."

"Yes." I squeezed his hand tightly. "You are."

Joh

The conversation seemed to be distracting him from his pain and I was glad.

His shoulders weren't nearly so tense anymore, and the more we talked, the more the stiffness in his frame evaporated.

"Oh, and I fractured my cheekbone when I was fourteen." Joh

"Oh, yeah," I mused, inspecting the thin scar. "I never noticed that before now." I flicked my eyes to his eyebrow. Unable to stop myself, I reached up and trailed my thumb over his brow again. "Why does this always bleed?"

"Hasn’t had a chance to heal up," he explained, keeping perfectly still while I touched him inappropriately. "It'll close up properly once the season's over."

"Oh," I whispered, searching his face for more hidden battle wounds.

When my eyes reached his again, I found him watching me, his dark blue eyes heated and locked on mine.

"The player from Royce hurt you there?" I inclined my head to where the towel was draped over his thigh. "That's why you passed out?"

Joh

"Can I see it?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He tensed.

"Please?"

He shook his head slowly. "Sha

"Please?" I repeated, eyeing him nervously. "I already know it's there and you've shown me the others."

"It's bad, Sha

"You can trust me," I whispered. "I won't tell."

Joh

Shoulders slumped, he dropped his hands to his sides, but made no move to show me.

"Can I?" I asked.

He closed his eyes and nodded stiffly.

He was giving me the reins, I realized, to do what I wished.

Shakily, I lifted the towel away and stared down at what looked like a recently sewn scar on his i