“Here. Let me check your injuries.”
He nodded, but made no effort to take off the souvenir t-shirt he’d purchased in Mexico to replace the shirt destroyed at Señorita Ruiz’s hacienda.
Olivia eased the shirt over his head and dabbed at the scratches on his chest with a warm washcloth. Not until her fingers began tracing some of the deeper wounds, trying to determine if any debris still remained embedded that might cause infection, did Cash acknowledge her close proximity. He reached up, grabbed her hand, and brought it to his lips.
He kissed her palm so gently that Olivia could taste his pain. Tears filled her eyes and slid down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure why his agony touched her so deeply, but it did. “I’m sorry,” was all she could think of to say, knowing it wasn’t enough.
They sat for several minutes in silence, hand in hand. Olivia hated to free herself from Cash’s warm touch, but she doubted he was ready to talk about Zara, and the guilt and fatigue in his lost eyes tore at her heart.
Olivia stood, easing out of Cash’s grasp. She placed her hands on his shoulders and gently maneuvered him back until he lay on the sofa. He didn’t resist as she unlaced his hiking boots and pulled them off, draped a blanket over him, and turned out the lamp. She touched her lips to his forehead and left him alone in the dark with his demons.
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