“I'm not taking this money,” I say again, this time yanking my t-shirt off over my head and pushing his hand away as I press the cotton to his open wound. “But I am going to help you. Just don't die on me, alright?”
He momentarily opens his eyes once more, and when he grins, I can't tell if it’s because he’s glad I’m going to help him, or the fact that I've taken my shirt off. Maybe both.
“Top floor,” he whispers hoarsely.
“Wait, what?” As dumb of an idea I know it was, I was just going to drag him into my own apartment on the second to top floor. As far as I knew, the apartment above me was empty.
“I live-” he coughs blood and then he's going slack in my arms. “I just moved-”
Oh, wonderful. The hot, muscled bleeding guy dying in my arms is my new upstairs neighbor.
“Thank you, really.” He says with that deep, baritone of a voice. He's sitting up now in his bed, which is weirdly the only piece of furniture in the whole apartment. His color is coming back, and there's a clean bandaged wrapped around the stitches I've just put on the wound on his ribcage and another bandage taping down the other heavy cut on his brow.
I nod at him quietly, as I start to pack away the medical supplies I grabbed from my own apartment.
“Look, take the money, seriously.” He says, nodding at the bloody stack of bills sitting on his empty kitchen counter.
I choke out a small laugh. “Yeah, uh, no. Thanks though.”
“Why not?”
I look up at him, and he's got this cocky, devilish smirk on his face, his teeth shining white through the dark beard covering his chin. And for maybe the fifth time since finding him, there’s something so familiar about him that strikes me in a funny way but that I just can't place.
“Because I don't want to know what happened to you tonight, but I also know a stab wound when I see one.”
The grin fades from his lips, and he nods at me. “Fair enough.” He clears his throat. “It was a fight; a boxing match.”
“I said I didn't want to know.”
He laughs. “Yeah but you seem like the curious type.”
“Oh, and you figured that out from the full two hours you've known me, half of which you were passed out?”
“I'm good at reading people.”
I cross my arms over my chest, over the fresh tank-top I've changed into. ”A boxing match doesn't usually involve knives.”
He grins and shrugs, “Some people are bad at losing.”
“So you won?”
He nods at the kitchen counter. “That wad of cash I keep trying to get you to take is twenty five thousand dollars.”
Holy shit.
I shake my head. “You know you could have died tonight if I hadn't found you, right? I mean why do this?”
“Eh, it’s just what I do I guess.” He says, leaning back against his headboard. He winces for a second and I can see a red bloom at the bandage on his side.
“Shit, you're bleeding. Hang on, let me change that bandage again.” I move towards the bed and sit on the edge as I bend down to examine him.
“So is that why you fight then? That money?” I nod my head at the kitchen counter.
He laughs dryly. “Not at all, actually.”
“So why then?”
“Let me ask you this, Doc. Why did you fix me up tonight?”
I give him a look. “Because it’s what I do, I'm a doct-”
“See?” He grins at me.
“Cute,” I say dryly, a grin teasing the corners of my lips.
I look around the empty loft. “Look do you have anything to eat here? You lost a lot of blood tonight, you should eat something.”
“I have no idea.” He says with a nonchalant shrug.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You don't know if you've got any food here?”
“I dunno, I might?”
“You do live here, right?”
“Uh, sort of.” He says awkwardly.
“What's that mean?”
“I mean, yeah, I sort of live here. It’s sort of like my hideaway from life.”
I frown at him. “What are you, married or something?”
He barks out a laugh. “Uh, no, darlin. I'm not.”
I find myself smiling at his drawled “darlin’ as I look away, and then I’m wondering why I feel such an immediate spark of excitement hearing that he isn’t married.
I turn back, and he’s slowly closing his eyes. “Hey, hey!” I snap in his face and pat his bristled cheek as he opens his eyes and grins at me. “You can’t fall asleep like this.”
“Aww, what’s the matter, Doc, enjoying the conversation too much?” His grin is just charming enough to let the cockiness of the comment that would usually dig right under my skin just sort of roll off of me instead.