He shakes his head. “There could be glass in that cut. No walking until I look at it.”

“I didn’t know you were a doctor too,” I tease.

He smirks. “Don’t be a smartass. I just know a lot about fixing wounds.”

Xavier sets me on Andy’s desk and grabs the kit off the wall. Without any hint of hesitation he rifles through the box, searching for the correct supplies to treat my leg. His last words ring in my ears, reminding me there’s so much about him I don’t know about.

He brings over a bottle of peroxide and gauze and sets the open box next to me. He pours a capful of solution and opens one of the sterile bandages. “This won’t hurt. I just need to clean it up.” After I nod, he holds the gauze below the small cut on my knee and pours the peroxide into the wound. It bubbles and fizzes—flushing the germs out before he dumps another capful into it. His eyes inspect the cut, and I know the logical reaction would be for me to be worried about the pain, but all I can focus on are his large hands on my body. The tenderness of his touch causes my stomach to flip. “You don’t appear to have any glass in there—looks like just a bad scrape.”

He dabs some triple antibiotic ointment on a clean wad of gauze and applies it to the cut before covering it with a bandage. His skill amazes me. My father would never have been able to do that. Injuries like this were always handled by my mother, which makes me wonder why Xavier is so good at it. “Where did you learn how to do all this?”

He shrugs. “Just something I learned over time. I’ve always had to take care of myself, you know.”

One corner of my mouth pulls down into a small frown. “Did your mom teach you?” I know the question is prying, and he’s told me he doesn’t talk about his family, but I can’t help wondering what happened to him when he was a little boy.

Xavier blows a rush of air through his nostrils. “My mom died when I was a kid.”

I gasp and instantly wish I could take back my nosy question. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible. How old were you?”

He swallows hard and tosses the open packages in the trash. “Eight.”

My heart instantly crushes in my chest. I can’t imagine losing someone as important as your mother at such an early age.

I place my hand on his, attempting to comfort him, but he jerks away and shakes his head. “This is exactly why I don’t talk about my family. I hate pity. Don’t feel sorry for me.”

I flinch at the sudden change in tone. “I’m sorry, I just…I want you to know I’m here for you…if you ever want to talk about her.”

He closes the box and latches it shut. “I’ve done just fine not talking about her for this long, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. She’s dead. I’m over it.”

I can tell by the pained expression on his face that’s far from the truth. “It’s okay to miss her—”

“Enough!” he snaps. “Damn it. Are you always this nosy?”

“Are you always this evasive?” I fire back, unable to stop myself.

He directs his stern blue eyes to me in what I’m sure is a look that’s meant to get me to back off, but it doesn’t scare me. Not one bit.

“I just think that if you talked about her—”

“That what? I’ll suddenly be a better person. News flash, beautiful, that’s not how shit works in the real world. Dragging up things from the past only fucks with people’s heads more. It doesn’t magically heal them. People don’t talk about certain things for a reason, and believe me, I have mine.”

“It’s still not healthy. If you would just—”

“Why don’t you follow your own advice, huh? I saw the bruises on your arm that first day. Why don’t you tell me what made you really run away from home? What was so bad? Did your boyfriend beat you? Your father? Who?” The air whooshes from my lungs and he takes in my panicked expression. “It’s not so easy to talk about something you don’t want to, is it?”

Memories of the day I left home flood my mind. Thoughts of what I went through just to make it out of there cause a sob to rip out of me. Damn him for making me feel this way—for making me remember the hellish life I left behind.

“Damn it.” Xavier closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them and reaching out to embrace me. “I’m sorry, Anna. I shouldn’t have…fuck.”

I shake my head as guilt washes over me, finally understanding why he didn’t want to talk about his past. The pain of my own past is hard to bear, and I can only imagine what he must feel like if his was worse than mine.

“I’m sorry too.” I bury my face in his chest and continue to cry softly.

We stay like that for a few minutes—both quiet and unmoving. For a moment it feels like whatever wall Xavier has built around himself comes down a bit, allowing me to see inside, if only for a brief moment. The memories that haunt him aren’t something he obviously wants to discuss, so I’ll respect that, but I hope one day he’ll trust me enough to let me in all the way.

Quinn clears her throat. “Everything all right in here?”

Xavier pushes away from me and takes in my tear-stained face. He grimaces, like the sight of me causes him physical pain, before stepping back. “I’ve got to go.”

Panic fills me. He’s pulling away just as I thought we were getting somewhere, and it scares me. I don’t know him well enough to know whether I’ll ever see him again, if he walks out this door right now. “Xavier…wait. Please.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

I swallow hard as he zips past Quinn in the doorway and possibly out of my life forever.

I bite down on my lip and try to force the tears of abandonment away. It’s crazy to feel this way about him, but I can’t help it. There’s so much more to him than the tough persona he presents to the world. He’s hurting, and I just wish I knew how to help him.

“What was all that about?” Quinn asks the moment Xavier is out of earshot. “You sure you two aren’t sleeping together, because that felt fucking intense.”

I sniff and grab a tissue from Andy’s desk. “I think I just pushed him away.”

She tilts her head. “How did you do that?”

“He told me that he doesn’t talk about his family, and I couldn’t stop myself from prying. He got upset. We both said some things…then apologized, and now I’m not sure where we stand.” I wipe under my eyes, the black mascara staining the tissue. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again after this.”

Admitting out loud that I might not see him again causes another sob to rip through me. My cousin is instantly at my side, hugging me.

I wrap my arms around her, and she sighs. “Oh shit. This is worse than I thought. You have feelings for him already, don’t you?”

While it must be obvious that I do, saying it out loud makes it real, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. But I have to give her something. Quinn won’t stop pushing me for details unless I do.

I close my eyes, and tear rolls down my cheek. “I don’t know what’s going on between us. All I know is the idea of never seeing him again…it scares me.”

She nods. “I completely understand. Things are still new between the two of you, and it’s hard to dig into heavy issues at this stage, but you can’t let him leave Detroit with this weight hanging between the two of you. You have to let him know you’re here for him.”

“What if he doesn’t want to see me again?”

Quinn smiles. “He does. Trust me. You should go after him.”

“Now?” I shake my head. “I can’t. What would Andy say if I just left in the middle of my shift?”

She waves me off. “I’ll tell him your leg hurt, and you needed to go home and rest. He’ll be so worried over the worker’s comp claim he won’t bat an eye about you leaving. Here,”—she digs in her pocket—”take my car.”

I furrow my brow. “Do you want me to come back and pick you up?”

“No.” She grins. “Brock will give me a ride.”

I raise my eyebrows. “I take it you two are getting along now?”