Brent’s eyes had drifted closed, and he was breathing evenly as though he was beginning to drift to sleep. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Dad,” Brent said, his words slurring. The poor kid probably hadn’t slept well in days. Tuck and I worked quietly, getting into a rhythm. Dip. Squeeze. Hand over. “Put a piece over the edge of this one, would you?” Tuck murmured, inclining his head toward a strip he’d just placed down. I nodded and leaned closer to him, reaching my arm across his to lay the strip on Brent’s arm. I felt the heat of Tuck’s body and smelled the scent of his skin, my heart rate jumping as my hand jerked slightly and my fingernail scraped across Brent’s exposed hand. The boy startled, his eyes flying open as I dropped the piece of material and withdrew my hand quickly. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

Tuck sighed and rearranged the strip himself. Brent’s eyes drifted shut again, but I cringed as I saw that one of my intact nails had drawn a small bit of blood right above his thumb. Mostly, they were ragged and broken from all our hardships. Once these nails had been the height of fashion, and now they not only looked awful, but they also seemed ridiculous. Because they were the fingernails of someone who was expected to do very little, physically speaking. And doing very little was currently not much of an option.

Tuck lay Brent’s arm gently on the now-open sling across his chest. “It’ll dry quickly,” he whispered, standing and stretching his neck. I picked up the bowl of water and stood too as Katelyn stepped toward Tuck and threw her arms around him. “Thank you. We got so lucky that you’re here.” For a moment Tuck looked stiff and awkward, but then relaxed, accepting the physical gratitude. And I couldn’t help wondering just how long it’d been since he’d received an embrace of gratitude. Or an embrace of any kind, truth be told.

“I’m glad I could help,” he said when she stepped away. “It’s funny what hangs around in the cobwebs of your mind.” He smiled, and it was sweet and slightly bashful. My heart gave a strange bump, and I turned away to go dispose of the water, careful to avoid Charlie, who was leaning against the doorway looking bored.

Behind me, I heard Brent let out a soft snore. He was sleeping deeply and peacefully. And now he could heal.

* * *