Lost Me Gained Regret

I don't always want to be the worrywart. So I said, "Okay, I got it."

Bella spoke gently on the phone, "Alright, get some rest soon. A pregnant woman shouldn't be up too late."

"You too," I responded.

As I hung up and set down my phone, there was the sound of the door opening. I quickly made my way to the entrance, where Christine and Ramona exchanged glances.

Ramona said, "Come with me, let's check on my garden flowers."

Christine was cooperative, "Sure thing."

Of course, the person returning was Gregory Ford.

I opened my arms to hug him, but he stopped me, holding my shoulders, "I'm dirty, I need a shower first."

That didn't sound right.

Even now, with a child on the way and my heightened caution about bacteria, his level of dirt seemed excessive for just running errands and not rolling in dirt at a construction site.

Just as I was about to inquire further, a small black vial caught my eye.

"Antidote?!" My eyes brightened.

"Mm-hmm," he replied, raising his eyebrows coyly, almost boastfully, "Am I impressive or what?"

He was trying to appear nonchalant, but my heart tightened in an instant. I didn't reach for the antidote immediately but instead began examining him for injuries, lifting his clothes.

It was when I discovered the blood on his arm that he suddenly grabbed my wrist.

"Don't light a fire if you can't put it out," he warned, gaze lowered.

My eyes immediately moistened. "You're not taking this seriously, are you?"

As I was about to cry, Gregory instinctively reached to tousle my hair, trying to comfort me. He quickly thought better of it and withdrew his hand. Something was not right. I firmly grasped his hand to check it; several trails of dried blood were visible, ghastly though they had clotted. "Weren't you the one who promised you wouldn't get hurt?" I protested.

Gregory had the frustrated look of a learned man outmatched in a skirmish, ineffectively rationalizing, finally resignedly admitting with a helpless gesture, "I did indeed break my promise there. Just don't cry-all you say goes."

I turned silently and headed towards the living room.

Gregory followed, "Didn't we just agree we'd communicate everything on time? What's this now, giving me the silent treatment?"

I located the first aid kit, giving him a stern look, "Sit down."

Gregory obediently sat down.

"Hand," I demanded, spreading out my palm.

He meekly placed his injured hand in mine. Under the brighter living room

lights, saw not just scabs, but numerous wooden splinterso embedded deeply.

I was tempted to kick him; however, the sight of his hand softened my resolve.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

Gregory chuckled, "Don't hold back, kick if it eases your spirit, don't spare a thought."

"Who's sparing thought? It's just that my foot hurts."

"Is it your foot hurting, or your heart?"

I acted as if I hadn't heard him, first washing off the dried blood, then carefully removed the splinters with tweezers.

After multiple checks and applying disinfectant, I reached for a bandage when Gregory spoke up, obstructing, "No need, it'll heal quickly enough."

I held the bandage, silently looking at him.

Gregory capitulated, "Alright, you win."

He surrendered his hand for

bandaging. I tied the final knot inca

bow. He grimaced but didn't

complain, only saying, "Go give the antidote to Ramona; I need to shower."

"No," I refused.

"I can't shower?"

Gregory queried, "Is this your way of punishing me?"

I couldn't help but laugh, "Your hand can't get wet."

Gregory heard this as if it was the funniest of jokes.

I realized he hadn't taken the injury seriously; if I hadn't discovered it, he probably would have skipped even disinfecting it.

Gregory was about to shrug it off but suddenly swerved, "Actually, my hand really shouldn't get wet, how about you help me... with my shower?"

My cheeks flushed, but not wanting

to lose face, I extended a finger,

hooked his belt, drawing him towards me with a wry smile,

might help you wash, but, will you manage to sleep tonight?"