Chapter 2: Tending to His Wounds

*Rosie Fay-Donovan*

I didn't normally wait for Archie to come back home, but I was too uneasy after he left like that, so I couldn’t help it.

I dismissed Johnnie and Ruby, telling them I’d be going to bed soon, but in reality, I just didn’t want them to worry about me.

After I showered, I put on my nightgown, went downstairs to prepare a cup of tea, and grabbed my favorite book to pass the time. It was hard to focus on the story though.

My mind was constantly wandering back to Archie and what in the world could be happening that he had to leave in a hurry like that. It wasn’t so uncommon to have late-night issues arise in the underworld. If anything, that’s when most of the problems would show up. I knew that.

Tired of reading the same sentence over and over, I looked up to check the time on an antique clock by the corner of the room. My family had several relics and vintage decoration objects, and I learned to treasure them, knowing they had been there for centuries and held the history of my ancestors somehow.

A low click by the door reached my ears and I instantly jumped to my feet. Footsteps could be heard as I rushed toward the front door.

My breath was stuck in my throat as I took in the image in front of me. Archie’s white shirt was stained with blood and he had gotten rid of his blazer. His hair was sweaty, his knuckles were bleeding, and he had a small cut above his right eyebrow.

My eyes roamed over the rest of his body, trying to spot more wounds or deadly injuries, but other than looking exhausted and a complete mess, Archie seemed fine.

His eyes widened as he spotted me in front of him. The look on his face was endearing though.

“Rosie, what are you doing up?” he murmured, his tone low and worried. His brows knitted together as he looked me up and down, clearly trying to check if I was alright. “Did something happen?”

“Yes. You did. What the hell did you get yourself into?” I snapped. “Are you hurt?” It seemed like a stupid question, judging by his current state, but maybe there was something I couldn’t see. A concussion, or even a broken rib.

Archie shook his head and took a step forward. “I'm fine. You should’ve seen the other guy,” he murmured.

I rolled my eyes. What a typical man’s line.

“Right… Come on, I’ll help you clean this up,” I offered, reaching my hand out to help him. He seemed a bit unsteady, even though he was trying his best to pretend he wasn’t.

“You don’t have to. I can handle it. You should be in bed,” he argued and took a few more steps until he reached me.

I didn’t move a muscle, just stayed in the same place, showing him I wouldn’t budge. Archie studied me for a moment, and when he saw I wasn’t going to step away, he sighed and let me grab his arm.

I led him to the living room and put him in the same armchair I was in a couple of minutes earlier. I tossed my book to the side and told him to wait until I grabbed the first aid kit. The closest one we had was stored in the bathroom by the end of the hall.

My father kept first aid kits everywhere in the house; he used to say we never knew when we’d need one.

Archie had his head in his hands when I returned. I watched him for a whole minute before making my presence known. He seemed distraught. I wished I could do something to ease the burden on his shoulders, but the fact he didn’t share anything with me made things harder.

How could I know what was troubling him?

I grabbed the gauze and the antiseptic and started cleaning his knuckles. The blood was already dry which made it a bit harder for it to be cleansed.

“I'll have to put some pressure on it,” I warned him. “It might sting.”

Archie hummed in response and I grimaced as I started to rub his fingers. He didn’t even flinch though. I guessed he was already used to being injured at this point. And judging by the way his eyes were lost somewhere behind me, he wasn’t even feeling what I was doing.

“What happened to you?” I tried again, hoping he had relaxed at this point and would warm up to me being all caring.

Archie’s head snapped in my direction and his eyes locked on mine for what felt like an eternity. I even stopped treating his wounds, my hand frozen midair.

How come he still had that power over me after years of living together? Why did my body react to him like this, as if I had no control of it at all?

“Come on, Rosie. Do you really want to know? Your father never shared these things with you, so why would you want me to?”

The mention of my father—and the stupid comparison he made—took me out of my frenzy. I could understand Archie wanting to protect me, but he was my husband, not my father. We were supposed to share things. To help each other. To be there for one another through health and sickness, for better or worse.

“You're not my father,” I argued bitterly. “You're my husband and I’m asking you what happened that you got home late at night covered in blood. It’s a normal question any wife would ask.”

Archie seemed to consider my words. Or at least, his silence was an indication I had hit him somewhere deep down. I didn’t wait for him to answer though. I didn’t think he would. I returned my attention to what I was doing and soon I was over with his hands.

Then, I moved to his eyebrow. Being inches from his face made focusing even harder. It also made it impossible for him to look anywhere else other than my face.

I had never been this close to him before. Not even on our wedding day. Which, truth be told, wasn’t even a special day to me. We didn’t have a party or a ceremony, just both of our fathers and his brother to witness it and sign the papers.

Tragic, I know.

The way his eyes were staring at me made me weak. I tried to keep my focus on the wound before me so I didn’t have to think of what was going through his mind as he studied me.

Did he even think I was attractive? I knew he did. I spotted him checking me out a few times before when he thought I wasn’t looking. I could see the way his body sometimes reacted whenever I was close. Like now.

His fists were clenched by his side, and I knew it wasn’t because of pain. He still wasn’t moving as I patched the wound up. Not even a flinch or a curse. He wasn’t feeling pain.

So, the fact that his body and his jaw were tense had to do with the fact I was standing this close to him.

For a brief, crazy moment, I wondered what he’d do if I kissed him. Would he back away and tell me I was crazy, or would he indulge me and make love to me all night?

I cleared my throat and shook my head as I caught myself staring too hard at him. The image of him pinning me to a wall and f*cking me got me aroused without him even touching me.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, concerned, as he noticed the step back I took from him, putting some distance between us.

I swallowed hard, turning away and starting to put together everything I got out of the medical kit.

“Yeah, I’m done with it. You can go to bed now.”

Archie nodded, still watching me intently. I really hoped he couldn’t see my cheeks blushing furiously.

“Thank you for helping me,” he said softly.

I didn’t dare to look him in the eyes again. So, I just nodded my head and bid him goodnight.

As I reached my bedroom, I slammed the door behind me, feeling like the stupidest woman in the world.

“You're a fool, Rosie. He’ll never have you the way you want him to,” I mumbled to myself, feeling the tears welling in the corner of my eyes. “He'll never love you the way you love him.”