Island Rush (35 page)

Chapter 35

If you told me a few months back that I would be stuck on an island with the too perfect Mr. Rush, I would have laughed and called you crazy.  If you also told me along with that, that he transformed into this man that loves me, I would start to get mad because then I would feel mocked. Yet somehow, it was my reality now.  I would do whatever it took to keep that reality. That obviously included taking care of him.

I leaned over his body, his eyes staring up at me with silent encouragement as he took another hit from the joint.  Then he smiled, his teeth shining brightly from the illumination of the firelight. Hopefully, it would stay a smile.  I did not want to hurt him.

I focused on his side that wasn’t cut, eyeing the vine which was wrapped several times around him.  Wanting to make it as painless for him as possible, I didn’t want to untie it and take it off. “I am going to cut this off first,” I said, grabbing the knife I had next to the kit.

I started working at the tight vine, trying to pinch for some slack.  It wasn’t too hard and a couple minutes in, I was a success.  With a snap, I cut through the first length of the vine.  Cutting through each part that was wrapped around his torso, his body became more visible before he was free from it all.

I set the knife down after that and brushed away the vine as it fell to the ground where the rest was under his back.  He shut his eyes, taking in the release of pressure from it.  I noticed that even though the vine was gone, the dress never moved from his side.  The fact that the dress was buried that deep in his cut was scary for what I had to do next.

“You alright?” I asked, leaning back to look down to him.

He ran his free hand down his bare stomach and chest, feeling the relief there. “Yeah, I’m alright,” he breathed.

“Well, this next part is going to hurt, no matter how high you are. Let’s just hope not as much as it would without the pot.”

He looked worried at first but nodded.  I proceeded by opening the first-aid kit, moving closer to the fire so I could see what was in the box better.  Searching for the equipment for stitching and finding it, I took out and studied each tool. 

The cut was quite large for the equipment we had.  Meaning, I wasn’t sure if this would even work.  Plus, I don’t know how to stitch up a cut to begin with, let alone a cut that size!  It made me queasy knowing I was doing this to him.

“You should know that the only thing I have ever stitched before was a shirt with a small hole.”

“I figured that so just do what you can.  Sew it like a shirt,” he said like it was no big deal.  He even shrugged and laughed before raising the joint to his lips again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, trust me.  It will be fine,” he said, throwing his free hand away from him, signifying it was no big deal.  “Make sure everything is clean first.”

“Okay,” I sighed. I helped him move into a better position.  I guided him to lay down on his stomach, with the cut on the right side of his back and side facing the fire.  It gave me the light I needed and gave us the heat too. 

After getting all the things I needed, I squeezed between him and the fire. Setting down everything, my eyes looked over where the dress was against his cut.  It was soaked red, some of the fabric pressed into the cut and sticking there.  My mother’s body, her in her bloody nightgown, resurfaced in my brain.  I turned away from him, clearing my head before turning back.  He caught my eye, tilting his head slightly with his cheek on the ground so he could see me at his side better.

“I want to look at you, watch you do this.  I know that it seems weird especially because of what you are doing.  But I think I would be rather impressed to see you do this.  Plus, I still believe you will automatically take some of the pain away.”  With his arms resting on the ground above his head, he moved one around to where his eyes faced the fire and pressed it to his lips again.  When his hand retrieved, he smiled and continued. “Get it over with. The sooner I’m better, the sooner I can have you in my arms.”

I laughed, hoping talking would be a good enough distraction. I slid down and laid on my stomach, facing the cut and dress.  It was so long, stretching from his back around to where his side was facing the fire.  Good thing it didn’t go around him any more than that.  “You’re really sweet when you’re high.”

“Naw,” he scoffed.  “I’m only saying things I wouldn’t normally.”

“So right now you aren’t limiting your words?” I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“I am sure you will find out for yourself soon,” he chuckled.

I watched his face as I ran my fingers over the fabric of the dress, seeing his reaction.  He didn’t react, meaning it didn’t hurt.  I started the delicate process of peeling the bloody dress off the cut.  As I did, I saw him wince and hiss a few times.  It was not nearly as bad as it could have been, though.  It was a relief to toss it behind us and out of the way.

In the firelight, his eyes in mine turned more admiring after wincing. Smiling softly, I looked over the cut now that it was uncovered.  With how long it was, it made me realize this would take a while.  There was dried blood on it, but it was not bleeding, which was good.

“How do you feel?” I had to keep checking.

“All good up here,” he said, raising his free hand in the air and giving a thumbs up.

“That’s good,” I laughed. 

Now that the vine was cut away, and the dress was removed, I grabbed what I would need next.  I picked up the shirt I soaked in the lake.  It was cold and, though we were directly next to the fire, I knew this would make him stiffen a bit.  Kneeling up with the fabric in one hand, I offered him a sorry look.  “Try to not jump when you feel this. I’m sure you can’t help but tense but try to keep your body as relaxed as you can.”

“Okay,” he said simply.

I didn’t even question his calm mood because I knew if I stalled any longer, I wouldn’t want to do this whole process.  So I lightly started running a fraction of the cloth along his cut.  Under my moving hand, I felt his body tighten, and sympathy for him swept over me.  All I wanted was to hold him close.  I saw that the one arm his head was resting on was gripping the blades of grass, trying to hide his pain from me.  The other hand holding the joint quivered with the need to do the same.

Reminding myself that this would make him feel better, I continued.  Gingerly, I ran the material along the deep cut.  Clearing the wound of any dirt that somehow got in, I rested my other hand on his cheek, stroking the smooth skin there.  He slowly started to relax, but it was forced, which I understood.  Who could fully relax when you have ice cold water running over your skin and a nasty cut?  His skin prickled with the sensation as he received goosebumps along his body.  I ran my hand from his cheek up and through his hair, wanting for him to feel better as I slowly proceeded to wipe away the dried blood and to clean the cutout.

By the time I finished, he led his outstretched hand back to his mouth where he took another hit.  I continued onto the next step of this horrible process.

Discarding the wet fabric, I took a cloth from the first-aid kit and dabbed it with some antibiotic cream. When I traced the edges of the cut with the cool medicine and cloth, he most definitely did not like it. The pot didn’t help him through that. I could only imagine how much that had to burn. Thankfully, I got that done though quickly, apologizing.  “I’m so sorry, I had to, though.”

“Better than getting an infection,” he said softly, taking deep breaths. 

Looking down at him in the firelight, I admired his strength.  “How are you doing so far?”

“As long as you’re here, I will be fine,” he stated in a serious note, eyes still on mine.  That’s what I loved about him.  It wasn’t just cute words to impress me, he really meant it.  As I put the cream away and the cloth with it, I leaned down and kissed his cheek quickly. 

His smile sweet and aimed to me, I put my attention back to my next task: stitching.  Taking the needle and thread from the kit, I leaned over his back and inched up towards where the cut started at the back of his shoulder.  When I began this long process, I realized that it was going to be a long night.

I knew him being high was helping.  But with how much pain he was going through, it made me think about how much worse it would be without the pot.  His hand shook hard as it gripped the grass, the joint continuously moving to his mouth it seemed.  He also was smothering his groans against his arm.  My guess was he thought he didn’t have the right to cry out in pain because he knew how much it hurt me to hear it.  But I honestly couldn’t pay attention to that.  I forced all my feelings and attention into stitching that cut.  Of course, though, Casey needed a distraction, which I guess I couldn’t blame him as I watched him shake.  Overall, he was doing well with this considering how awful it was before. 

“Um… my favorite color is red,” I said, unsure of what else to say when he requested I distract him.  He knew nearly everything about my life.  And after I started stitching his cut up, I gave him a few other small details. 

He grunted once more as I slid the needle through his split skin again.  Yes, he started to bleed slightly more once I started and as of now, my favorite color was anything but red.  There wasn’t much, though, and I wasn’t as disgusted as one would think.

It was a little hard since I was working with only the fire to help me as a guide to see.  Sliding the needle in and out through the other side of the skin and pulling, I repeated it. Repeated it over and over.  His eyes were on me most of the time.  At the angle he had to crane his neck to meet my eyes, I was positive his neck would be sore tomorrow. 

“Red?  That’s all you have?  Come on, babe,” he said, taking another hit.  I started laughing unexpectedly at his words, pausing my movement.  “You are the most interesting person I know.  I know there is more to you than just simple facts and family issues.”

“Well, I always loved photography.  I planned on becoming a photographer until I knew that wasn’t going to happen to me.”

“What do you like about it?”

I slid the needle in, back out, and repeated, moving down his back very slowly. “I like the fact that every person understands it differently.  Many simply think of it as a way to preserve memories - which is something I also find very important.  But a lot of people don’t see the part that is pure art.  People look at the world from one point of view: theirs.  With a camera, I’m not myself.  There is 360 degrees to work with and angles that people stare in awe at.  Yet, it’s all right there in front of them.  They just don’t realize it.”

He said nothing to that at first.  He propped his head higher so he could look at me better and he did, brown eyes intense and warm. 

“What?” I asked when he did nothing but stare at me.  He looked at me as if I really captured his interest.  I didn’t see how it was a big deal.  Photography was my hobby and dream, but everyone had hobbies and dreams.

He chuckled and shook his head.  “Just you.  You act like the coolest thing about you is no big deal.  I take pictures for the school yearbook and never thought about it like that.” His face turned mesmerized, and I noted that he didn’t look to be in pain.  “I can’t believe you are so amazing.”

I continued on, slowly stitching my way down his back.  I was about half way, and it took a while to get where I was as of now.  I wouldn’t be surprised if it took me most of the night. 

I felt more heat against my face that wasn’t just from the fire.  “I’m not that amazing.  Everybody has something they do or are interested it.”

I guided my fingers, leading the needle through the edges of his skin, closing the cut bit by bit.  I felt his eyes over me, searching me.  “No.  You don’t understand just how unique you are.”

I stopped my stitching movement, blushing more and biting my smiling lips.  “You are being too sweet.”

He smirked.  “Maybe I’m saying those things to get into your pants.”

“Well, I don’t think that is the reason.  Maybe you are just that kind of a person.”

He scoffed.  “Oh, I know I am.  I say all those things for the simple fact that they are true.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get into your pants.”

“What?” I asked, wondering if I heard him right, laughing slightly.

He looked at me after pressing the joint to his lips again.  Then he smirked.  “Nothing.”

After several seconds, I decided to drop it.  It was something though that I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about.  I never dreamed of him wanting me in that way until now.  I also knew he never would have said that if it weren’t for the pot. 

I went on stitching him up as best as I could, trying to not let him distract me.  The thing was, he needed me to do that for him. “What would you say about singing?” he asked.

I looked over and saw him watching me, waiting for an answer.  He caught me off guard; that was for sure.  I went on, though, continuing the needle’s rhythm.  I was close to where it dipped down to his lower back. 

“Singing?”  I wasn’t sure if I heard him right.

“Yes, singing,” he said.  “You know, the thing people do when--”

“I know what singing is,” I said with amusement.