When I turned, Carlos stood right behind me.  His shirt was gone along with his shoe and socks.

“Isabelle,” he said softly.  “Stop.”

I looked up and met his gaze.

“Stop what?”

“Worrying.”  He kissed my forehead, then stood to the side, obviously wanting me to leave.

I hesitated, looking at the open wounds, drying blood, and coloring skin.

“Call me if you need anything,” I said, lingering at the door.

“I will.”

I closed the door then went to sit on the bed.  Someone knocked on our door, but I ignored it.  I couldn’t deal with anything else.  Not right now.  My chest hurt just as much as my hands.  And though my gaze was trained on my hands, I didn’t see the dirty, bloody knuckles.  Instead, my mind brought back the images of the blood smeared on the seat, the bite marks on Carlos’ arms, and, finally, the hole in Ethan’s middle.  Life’s fragility hit me hard.

Never had I felt so vulnerable than right then.  My gift, the way people always seemed to like me, the way I always managed to come out on top, had given me a sense of invincibility that I’d never recognized.  My hands shook harder.

I could die.  Everyone around me could die.  And why?  Because we were trying to stop some guy from a power trip.  Who cared?  Let Blake have his power. This Judgement business was probably a line of bull anyway.  Yet, deep down, I knew that was a lie.  It wasn’t bull, and we couldn’t let Blake have any power.  He was a killer.

The water turned off in the bathroom, and I stood to get the first aid kits.  One had an icepack, which I cracked and shook.  It cooled in my hand as I set the case on the bed.  The door opened, and I turned to watch steam roll out along with Carlos, a towel wrapped around his hips.  His gaze immediately found mine.  His left eye was almost swollen shut.  I lifted the icepack, holding it out to him.

“Thank you, Isabelle.”

I nodded and looked away to grab the salve.  The cap didn’t want to unscrew, and the tremble in my hands didn’t help.  When I turned back to him, he was in the same spot, both hands at his side, the icepack seemingly forgotten as he watched me.

“I’ll start with your back,” I said, circling him.

Without his gaze on me, I allowed myself to wince at the gashes.  As gently as possible, I soothed the salve over the cuts, big and small, then grabbed the bandages and tape to cover everything I’d treated.

After I finished with his back, I moved to the front.  He tracked my every move.  When he watched me like that, it made me think he didn’t care about the cuts, bruises, and swelling as much as he cared about me standing just inches from him.

I squeezed some more salve onto my finger and gently spread it over a cut above his right nipple.  The skin under my fingers quivered.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Don’t I?  You went for that run because I wouldn’t...I should have—”

“Don’t, Isabelle,” he said, lifting the hand that wasn’t holding the icepack.  He gently ran a finger along my cheek.  “You spar to release energy.  I go for a run.  That’s all that was.”

I nodded and eyed the next cut.  He let his hand fall to his side and continued to study me.

“You’re still worrying.”

“I think you need stitches,” I said, adding more salve to a particularly deep gash.

“We heal quickly.  By tomorrow, the shallow ones will be scars and the deep ones scabbed over.”

When I had all the cuts coated, I grabbed the bandages and tape and started covering everything.  He held still through it all.  I finished with the bite on his neck.

“I don’t see why anyone would ever want to be bitten.”

“It would have been different if it were you,” he said softly.

He was right.  I wouldn’t have tried to remove a chunk of meat with my teeth.

“I’ll see how the others are doing,” I said, moving toward the door so he could dress.

*    *    *    *

Since Carlos’ eye was mostly swollen shut, Winifred drove the car.  Carlos again sat in the back with me.  I didn’t mind.

He kept the icepack on his eye and leaned against the door for the next four hours.  I couldn’t be sure if he slept or not.  Winifred must have thought the same because she didn’t try to make conversation.

So, I endured the boredom until my stomach rumbled loudly in the silence.

“We should stop and eat,” Carlos said, making me jump.

“How are you feeling?”

When he lifted his head, I noted he was careful to sit forward before he tried to straighten.  I hadn’t considered how it would feel having those cuts pressed against the seat. He set the icepack aside as I studied his face.

“Better,” he said, meeting my gaze.

He didn’t look better.  He looked worse.  Purple-black skin painted his swollen eye.

His hand crept across the seat, and he tugged my pinky.  My heart turned over at the playful gesture.

“Gabby says that there’s been absolutely no movement since your altercation.  We’ll stop at the next place we find.”

The next place turned out to be an ice cream and burger joint with outdoor seating.

“Forget lunch,” I said when I saw the sign.  “I’m going for dessert.”

Everyone piled out as soon as we parked.  I hung back to hover near Carlos as he eased himself from the seat.  Once he was out, he stood there for a moment.  There was nothing in his expression or in the air to give away the hesitation, but I was sure he had to be in pain.

“Why don’t you sit, and I’ll get us food,” I said, waving him toward the tables.

He nodded and veered off that direction.  I went to stand behind the rest of the group and stared at the board.  A gust of wind blew past, and I shivered, recalling Ethan’s comment about getting me a jacket.  So much had happened since then, and the need for a jacket as we traveled further north had completely slipped my mind.  I wrapped my arms around myself and studied the options on the board.  They had ten different kinds of burgers, including a half-pound burger.  I heard Emmitt tell the boy at the register he’d cover the order.  Since everyone else was still deciding, I stepped up.

“Can I get two of the half-pound deluxe burgers?  And can you add another patty to one of them?”

“Sure,” the boy said.

Behind me, I heard a happy noise from Jim.

“Anything to drink?” the boy asked.

I frowned trying to remember all the times Carlos had sat next to me during a meal.  I couldn’t recall what beverage he’d ordered.

“Two colas, whatever you have.”

The boy nodded, and I moved away.  Did Carlos like soda?  Turning, I walked back to the tables where he sat waiting.

“What kind of soda do you drink?”

“A cola is fine,” he said.

I moved to sit across from him, but he stopped me.

“Come sit next to me.  Please.”

It took a moment to untangle my half-completed bench mount on the picnic table.  Then, I walked around and joined him on his side.  Heat radiated from him, warming my right side.

“So, what’s your favorite, though?” I asked, continuing my train of thought.

“I prefer tea over soda and water over tea.”

He liked water.  And I’d ordered him a soda.

“Sorry.”

He reached over and wrapped his hand around mine.

“Thank you for ordering for me, Isabelle.  The burger sounds delicious.”

My insides went hot then cold, flustering me.  I carefully extracted my hand.  Well, at least I’d gotten part of the order right.

“What about ice cream?  What flavors do you like?” I asked.

“My favorite is butter pecan.  What about yours?”

“Anything vanilla with chocolate and caramel mixed in.”

The rest of the group started to come back from the window.  Gabby and Clay were first and sat down across from us.

“You look tired,” I said to Gabby.

She just gave me a weak smile.  I glanced at Clay.  His attention was on Gabby.  So I wasn’t the only one thinking she looked like she needed a nap?