Josie knew from enough experience with me that I would never forfeit an argument. It just wasn’t in my nature. To start an argument with me was to lose an argument with me. So instead of going a few more rounds, she gave close to her dozenth head shake before lifting the swab to my other eyebrow. “Brace yourself, you big baby. I’m about to douse your gaping wound with the redheaded-stepchild of alcohols.”
I still flinched when she pressed the pad into my skin, but at least I didn’t act like a cat on a hot tin roof. I bit the inside of my cheek and blew out a slow breath.
“Big baby,” she muttered before moving closer and blowing on the spot she was dabbing.
Shit, that felt good. If I had a tail, it would have been wagging. No one had to tell me twice that Josie leaning in, that damn coconut-scented hair brushing my face, and softly blowing on my battle wounds was probably the worst thing that could happen to me. One step above the apocalypse. No one had to remind me that I needed to keep as much distance between her and me as space would allow. Hell, I was reminding myself of that. But when Josie broke through my walls and got close, physically and every other way she could, I was incapable of pushing her back out. No, nobody needed to tell me how f**ked up that was. I reminded myself of it every day.
“This is one deja vu moment getting doctored up by you,” I said to distract myself from my thoughts.
She tore into another alcohol pad and blew on the next patch of face even before pressing it against it. “After these past couple years, I actually regret that day on the bus.” Her eyes looked everywhere but into mine.
I pulled out the knife she’d just lodged my chest before replying. “I guarantee you not as much as I regret it.”
Josie was a tough girl, one who I’d seen cry about as much as I did, but when her face broke, I was reminded for the billionth time what a dickhead I was. My default when someone hurt me was to hurt them back. It was a reflex, but it was one I wished I could turn off with people like Josie. She tore the next alcohol swab package open like it was to blame instead of me. Even though my words had cut her, she still dabbed my face gently, blowing the entire time.
I sighed. “Shit, Joze, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be such a dick but—”
“Something about me brings out the dick in you?” She tilted her head and waited.
“What? No. Not even close.” I shook my head. “Being around me brings out the dick in me.”
It was Josie’s turn to shake her head. “Sucks to be you.”
“Especially right now.” I held back the wince when she dabbed some ointment on my left eyebrow. Colt must have split that sucker right open.
“This one needs stitches, Garth. Some gauze and a Band-Aid just aren’t going to cut it.” Josie bit her lower lip, studying my eyebrow.
I snorted. “Yeah, right. There’s no way I’m going to let Colt Mason brag about giving me a good enough beating to require stitches. No. Way.”
“You don’t think he’s already bragging to his brothers about how he kicked your ass?”
“He might be bragging about it now. But once word gets around that I let him take his best shots with my hands all but tied behind my back and he still couldn’t manage to land a solid enough punch to require some stitches, I’m going to be the one with bragging rights.” Another eye roll from Josie. We had to be nearing the half a dozen count. “I’m made out of f**king steel. There isn’t a man alive who could hurt me.”
Josie pressed the alcohol swab back into my eyebrow but stopped blowing.
“Ow.” I snapped my head away from the swab. “That hurt.”
The corners of her mouth twitched before she blew on my eyebrow again. “There might not be a man alive who can hurt you”—she arched an eyebrow at me—“but I’m no man.”
I chuckled. “You’re a bruiser, Joze. A regular killer. Remind me to never pick a fight with you if I don’t want to get my ass beat.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you got your ass beat by me, would it?” The corners of her mouth twitched up again.
“No need to bring up bad memories. I’m not drunk enough for that.”
“I thought the first week of kindergarten when I socked you in the jaw for pulling on my pigtails was a repressed memory, not a bad one.”
“A repressed memory and a bad memory are one and the same. If you had enough of them, you’d know that by now.”
“Spoken like someone who has a few . . .”
I closed my eyes as she continued to work on my eyebrow. One eye was about to swell shut anyway. “Spoken like someone who only has those kinds of memories.”
“Exaggerate much?” Josie muttered.
“Only about the things that are important.”
That made Josie laugh. Her laugh started off small and got bigger until it almost rocked her entire body. That laugh had been one of the few constants of my past. I loved that laugh.
I shouldn’t love that laugh.
“Okay, last call for stitches. Anyone? Any takers?” she said once she’d stopped laughing.
I sealed my lips and shook my head, but Josie was already grabbing a thick Band-Aid from the kit. She knew me about as well as I knew myself.
“You’re impossible.” Sliding my hair back from my forehead, she tore open the bandage.
“Are you just figuring this out now? That I’m impossible? Because I would have thought by now, you especially would realize what an impossible, stubborn ass I am.” My fists curled around the chair-arms as Josie settled the bandage into position.