Page 24

‘Tea would be good. Everything’s in the cupboard above the kettle.’ Liv turned to give him a watery smile. ‘Thanks.’

‘None needed. You go do whatever you need to . . . with the door unlocked . . . and I’ll put the kettle on.’ He watched as she slowly, gingerly, made her way upstairs. Her left arm was crossed tightly across her abdomen, and Callum couldn’t help wondering — again — how that wrist had been so badly broken a few months previously.

Still pondering how he could help Liv when she was so resistant, he opened the first door off the hallway. It was a cosy living room, with the traditional wide stone fireplace he’d expect in cottages like this. He closed the door and opened the next in the corridor to reveal a typical cottage kitchen, with wooden countertops and cream cabinets surrounding a well-scrubbed table.

Within moments, the kettle was making promising noises, and Callum had found everything he needed and was leaning awkwardly against the countertop, trying not to nosey around Liv’s kitchen too much. From the stacks of books and paperwork spread across the table and teapot out on the side, he guessed she spent a lot of time here. He smiled at the image of Liv sitting at the table, hair loose as she pored over a book.

The shattering crash from upstairs had him in the hall in seconds, and he raced up the stairs, heart pounding. ‘Liv, what happened. Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine.’ Her strangled response did nothing to reassure Callum, but it did tell him which of the three doors she was behind.

‘I’m coming in.’ He didn’t bother to ask, because no wasn’t an option he was willing to accept. He pushed the door open carefully, and his stomach clenched painfully at the sight of Liv sat on the floor, tucked partly beneath the sink, tears streaming down her cheeks and her hand wrapped in a white towel that was slowly reddening with blood.

‘I’m sorry.’ She choked the words out before covering her face with her hands, and drawing her knees tightly against her chest as if trying to make herself as small as possible.

‘For what?’ Callum was genuinely confused. He couldn’t see anything Liv needed to apologise for.

‘Everything is such a mess. And it’s all my fault. I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m so sorry.’ She rocked back and forth, sobbing.

Callum grabbed a towel from the rack and used it to carefully brush up the shattered remains of a vase and some bedraggled flowers from the floor, before sitting beside Liv. Wriggling in the awkward space, he did his best to wrap a comforting arm around her shoulder. She tensed, and he held his breath, but after a few seconds she relaxed and rested her head against his shoulder.

Gently, Callum took hold of her bleeding hand and gingerly unwrapped the towel. He hissed in sympathy at the large gash running the length of her thumb. ‘I need to sort this out. It’s pretty deep.’

Liv looked at the wound dully. ‘I suppose.’

Her lack of interest really worried him. The wound was bleeding profusely, and must have hurt. But Liv seemed almost oblivious. Not knowing what to do immediately about her mental state, he decided to focus on the easier problem of her bleeding hand.

‘Come on.’ Callum struggled to his feet before bending down to Liv and half-lifting her from the floor. He balanced her on the edge of the bath before looking around. ‘First-aid kit?’

Liv sighed hugely. ‘Bottom drawer.’ She sniffed loudly, but tears still streamed unheeded down her face.

Callum pulled Liv’s hand gently over the sink and retrieved the kit. He rummaged through the box for gloves, gauzes, saline and Dermabond. He hadn’t examined the wound closely, but from the amount of blood he was expecting to have to glue — if not suture — it shut.

He pulled the gloves on and reached out for Liv’s hand. ‘Sorry, this is probably going to sting a bit.’

She murmured in response, her eyes staring at something only she could see. She didn’t flinch as he irrigated the wound, which worried him all the more. Callum had seen similar reactions before — but usually only in people who had experienced some level of bereavement or trauma, and seeing Liv zone out like this really worried him. Her reaction seemed so far out of proportion with the events of the evening, that he couldn’t help wondering what she’d been through that was hurting her so badly even now.

He glued Liv’s torn skin back together as gently as he could, aware that it would hurt her, but she still didn’t flinch. Biting back a sigh, Callum tidied up quickly, rolled off the gloves and washed his hands. He watched her, still worried about her reaction.

‘Liv?’

She didn’t look at him, her face hidden by a curtain of silken blonde that Callum longed to brush back.

‘Liv, tell me what to do. Please.’

‘I just need some time.’

‘All right,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘I’ll finish making the drinks. Leave the glass, and I’ll clear it up later. But you’ll come down in a few minutes?’

She shrugged one shoulder.

‘Liv, you’ve had a head injury today and are clearly upset. I’m not leaving you alone for long.’ Callum summoned all his patience. What he really wanted to do was wrap his arms tightly around her, and not let go until she was happy again. But he knew that wasn’t the right thing to do. This time he couldn’t resist the urge, and justified it by telling himself that he needed to know she was listening. So he reached out, and tucked her hair behind her ear, and gently lifted her chin to look at him.

She flinched, but didn’t pull away. Callum took it as a good sign.

‘I’m right here, Liv. I want to help you. Will you let me?’

Her cheek whispered against his palm, and golden strands tickled the back of his hand as she nodded. Even when she was so upset, Callum couldn’t help but notice how soft her skin was, and how silky her hair.