He tipped his head back and our eyes met again, and for a moment, he looked confused too and…almost vulnerable. My breath caught. What are you thinking? I wanted to know. I’d always wanted to know, and with Tuck, I’d never figured out how to ask so that he’d answer me honestly. He’d always been so secretive, held his emotions so close to the vest whereas I’d worn mine on my sleeve—and belted them out using the songs I sang. The ones that were usually about him. God. I hated thinking about that. I hated it. Especially now when I had to rely on him in so many ways.

Especially now, after he’d disappointed me so deeply. All those drugs…

And yet still, our eyes held.

“Emily—” Charlie suddenly appeared over Tuck’s shoulder, and I gave a small jolt as Tuck turned his way. Charlie’s gaze went from Tuck to me, down to the exposed wound. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone suspicious.

I started to pull my pants up as though we’d been caught doing something salacious but halted before I got antibiotic cream all over my clothes. But I did hold my hand in front of the sore, so Charlie didn’t have a good view. “Tuck was helping me treat my wound,” I said. “It might be infected.”

“You should have told me,” Charlie said. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It’s fine.”

Tuck picked up a bandage and stood. He started to turn to Charlie to, I assumed, give him the bandage so he could finish the job, but I stopped him before he did. “I’ll take that,” I said. Truthfully, I didn’t want Charlie to see it, because I could just picture the way his face would scrunch up with distaste like it’d done as he’d glanced at Russell’s dead body.

Or the way I’d seen it do when he got any small injury.

Charlie wasn’t good at keeping his reactions at bay. Part of his job was using his face to express his emotions, and so maybe he had a hard time turning that off. In any case, I preferred to keep my oozing sores away from him.

Tuck turned back toward me, hesitated, but then put the bandage in my outstretched hand. He seemed careful not to touch me. “Make sure to cover the whole thing,” he said. “And reapply the cream and change the dressing every few hours.” He nodded down to the medical kit.

“What do we owe you, doc?” Charlie asked as I unwrapped the bandage and removed the surgical tape.

Tuck gave Charlie that unimpressed, thin-lipped look again, obviously choosing to ignore the rhetorical question.