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actually picking her up. But here I am, walking with her in my arms. She is doing her best to make me put her back down, screaming and kicking. I’m not having any of it.
       “You might as well shut that pretty mouth of yours, I’m not putting you down,” I tell her. Did I seriously just call her mouth pretty? Out loud?
       “I am capable of walking. I am not an invalid,” she replies, while still trying to push from my grasp.
       I hold her tighter and keep walking. When I reach the hotel Jennifer comes running up to me. “What’s wrong? Is she ok? God, Lynkin, we will never get out of this mess if we let her get hurt.”
       “Jesus, Jen! Will you chill out? She is fine. Open the door for me.” She pushes the door open wide for me, and I walk by her and straight to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and set Sage on the counter. I pull my arms from her slowly and back up, waiting for her to jump down and take off again.
       When she doesn’t, I get to work getting a wash cloth and look through my bag on the floor till I find the makeshift first aid kit I have had forever. I place everything on the sink, then open the rubbing alcohol and pour in on the rag. She pulls her foot away when I reach for it.
       “Let me clean you up,” I say.
       “No.”
       “Yes. If I don’t these cuts will get infected with all that dirt embedded in them,” I explain.
       “I don’t care.”
       “I do. Now shut up and give me your foot.”
       “No. It’ll hurt.”
       “You are complaining that this will hurt, when you just fell out a window and ran half a mile barefoot over glass and rock covered pavement? Really?” I ask raising my eyebrows.
       “Fine, just do it,” she exclaims slinging her foot at me.
       I start with the small cuts and work my way to the bigger ones. I look up at her occasionally when she grunts or jerks from me. Her other foot is a lot worse off. I have to stop several times because she takes it away and refuses to give it back. Finally, I am on the last one when I see tears in her eyes.
       “I don’t think I can handle it. Please, just stop,” she pleads.
       “You can do it. Grit your teeth and bear it.”
       I fold the rag to a clean side and pour on some more alcohol. When I press it to this cut, she belts out a scream and tries to take her foot away again. I keep my grip tight and continue cleaning it out. Sage lets out a few whimpers, and I remove the rag. Bending forward, I blow carefully over it a few times to take some of the edge off of the sting.
       I lift my head to see if she is still in pain. Her face is blank and vacant, until her grey eyes connect with mine. A series of emotions play across her face, one after another. I try to get a read on them, but they seem conflicted. Then her body begins to tremble.
       “Are you cold?”

    Sage
       “No.”
       The cold chills that run through my body are just a contradiction to the uncontrollable heat I am actually experiencing. He is still bent over holding my foot with his head angled towards me. A stray lock of his hair has fallen to his forehead, and my hand involuntarily pushes it back with the rest of his hair. My fingers linger longer than necessary and I jerk them back.
       “Um, thank you.” I stutter out. “For…uh…fixing me up.”
       He stands up to his full height and clears his throat. “Yeah. Your welcome.” He moves from one foot to the other, then puts his hand out for me. “Let me help you down.”
       I take it and hop down, forgetting all about my poor feet. As soon as I hit the floor pain shoots through them and I fall forward, directly into Lynkin. He wraps his arms around me to catch me from falling the rest of the way to the floor. He doesn’t let me go right away and I don’t push off of him, either. Whiskey and honey invade my senses, and all that heat from earlier pools in my lower abdomen.
       Then I remember the last time I was close