The bandage, stained with dried blood, seemed like it was neglected and his wound opened again.
In the end, Hannah caved in without a word. She snagged the ointment from Bryson’s grasp and strutted into his room.
“Sit. I’m applying the medicine,” she ordered.
Bryson plopped down on the sofa, and Hannah sat on the other end.
She quickly untied the bandage on his arm.
The dried blood on the bandage clung to the flesh.
As she yanked the bandage off, Bryson’s wound bled again.
Despite Hannah’s surgical background, Bryson’s arm struck a nerve.
She sneakily glanced up at Bryson, expecting to catch a glimpse of pain.
To her surprise, he was relaxing against the sofa, Looking indifferent with her actions—-not a wince in sight.
Bryson, catching her gaze, quirked an eyebrow.
“Feeling sorry for me?”
Speechless, Hannah regretted letting her thoughts sympathize with him.
But there was no time for self-reflection as she plunged a cotton swab soaked in alcohol onto Bryson’s arm.
Take that for talking nonsense!
The move successfully elicited an actual frown from Bryson.
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Seeing his frown, Hannah grinned and resumed her work.
The girl who tried to kidnap her that day had stabbed Bryson with a dagger. His arm was in a terrible state, but, thankfully, the bone seemed unharmed.
Hannah cradled Bryson’s arm like a delicate vase as she wrapped it up, releasing an unseen sigh of relief.
“Ever wondered who sent that woman to catch you that day?” Bryson asked.
Hannah’s eyes locked onto Bryson’s after patching up his wound.
“Any revelations on your end?”
Bryson just raised an eyebrow and teased, “Curious much? Got any burning desire to know?”
Judging from the smirk dancing on Bryson’s Lips, Hannah could tell he was on to something.