These Ties That Bind. Mary Sullivan
to protect her, the biker stabbed him in the stomach. Foolish, courageous Rem who never thought of the danger to himself.
It didn’t matter that it really hadn’t been his fault. Trouble stalked Rem and that scared her.
The strawberry birthmark above his left nipple had faded over the years. The last time she’d seen it in daylight, they’d gone swimming with Timm. Her brother and Rem had been only ten and she nine.
Time had changed them all.
Rem’s arms and chest had been scrawny back then, but weren’t now.
When he lifted his hands to his hair to tidy it, his biceps flexed. Those unruly locks fell back onto his forehead.
He winced. He’d hurt his hands.
The small scar that bisected his upper lip—from a minor childhood mishap she no longer remembered—served to accentuate how full it was. The things that would be flaws on regular people looked like heaven on Rem.
To a plain woman like Sara, it smacked of unfairness.
He was still the best bad boy Ordinary had ever produced and Sara hated that she was so aware of him.
“Follow me,” she said.
“What do you want?” he asked, belligerent as hell.
“I’ll take care of your back.”
“Someone else can do it.” His lips barely moved. He was being rude.
“Little pitchers have big ears,” she said.
“What?”
She motioned with her head toward Finn. “Mind your manners.”
He blushed, obviously only now remembering that Finn would hear every word they said.
“There is no one else to do it,” Sara said. “They’re busy with the accident victims.”
He approached and said under his breath, “You live to make my life miserable, don’t you?”
“I do my best.”
She led him to an examination cubicle, all the while too aware of how close he was.
“You look like you’re chewing on a mouthful of finishing nails,” Rem observed.
He wasn’t far off. She felt that tense. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled the privacy curtain across the opening of the cubicle, closing them into a space too small for Sara’s comfort.
“What did I do wrong?” Rem muttered.
“Shut up and sit.” She pushed him onto the bed.
“Nice talk, Sara.” Rem sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress. “Great bedside manner.”
She ignored his sarcasm and examined his back. Despite her feelings, she made sure to keep her touch gentle. She checked out the burns on his hands.
“Ouch,” he said. “I didn’t even realize those were there.”
“They must hurt.” Sara sterilized the wounds.
“They do now. That poor little girl has worse burns on her hands and the top of her head.”
Although she was being careful, he flinched. Burns were tricky to clean without hurting the patient.
“Have you heard how the girl is?” he asked.
Sara’s tension eased a bit. Rem had a soft spot a mile wide for children. And animals. “No. If I hear anything I’ll let you know.”
Rem stared at her clothes. “Why aren’t you in scrubs?”
“I’m not scheduled to work today.” She glared at him. “That was a stupid stunt.”
“Excuse me? What stunt?”
“Climbing into a burning car.” Sara tore open packages of gauze so hard she nearly ripped the bags in half. When she started to clean the cut on his back, he hissed, and she struggled to relax, to ease her pressure on his cut. He’d terrified her when he’d climbed into that car.
“Do you think you’re invincible?” She knew full well how vulnerable people were, how easily they could be hurt, and how hard it was to come back from some injuries. Like burns.
She’d spent her teenage years helping her brother recover from his burns.
“Saving someone is wrong?” Rem asked. She watched him grit his teeth, but she couldn’t be any more careful than she already was and still do the cleaning and patching that needed to be done.
She secured his injury with gauze then handed him a scrub top to wear. He shrugged into it.
“Saving someone isn’t wrong, but why couldn’t you have waited until the firefighters got there? They wear protective gear.” She refused to look at him, didn’t want him to see her fear, didn’t want him to think she still cared for him. “They don’t reach into burning cars half dressed. After all these years you’re still reckless.”
“Sara, you’re being unreasonable. On the way to the hospital, did we pass any fire trucks?”
“No, but—”
“There is no but. That girl needed to be rescued.”
“And you just have to be the hero, don’t you?” she said.
“It wasn’t about me!” he shouted. “You’re being unfair.”
He was right. She needed to bring her irrational anger under control. She usually didn’t have this much trouble, but then she’d spent years away from Ordinary so she wouldn’t have to deal with Rem.
“Honest to God, Sara, I really don’t need to be a hero.” He touched her chin and forced her to look at him.
“We both know there’s nothing heroic about me,” he said. “But sometimes there isn’t time to wait for someone else to show up.”
But he was a hero. He’d just proven it and it went so far toward redeeming him, toward paying for all of the faults he’d shown when he was a teenager, that she had trouble keeping up. She’d thought badly of him for so many years. But he’d apparently been able to give up drinking and women and any number of destructive habits. Apparently, he was a responsible man now. And he’d just saved a child’s life in a way that was pretty hard to beat. Sara didn’t want to be impressed, but she was.
When he’d climbed into that burning vehicle, she’d thought she would lose him. She needed to be honest with him. “I know you couldn’t wait, but I was scared. It was hard to watch. I remembered Timm.” Her voice fell quiet, to barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t have time to think. I just did.”
“But that’s exactly it, Rem. You never think. You haven’t changed.” Memories of the day that altered their lives burned her eyes and sizzled between them.
“Sara, I’m not the kid I used to be. You know that.”
Yes, but why was it so hard for her to accept? Sara tossed bloody gauze into a wastebasket. “Half an hour ago, you sure looked like the same crazy kid.”
He captured her hands and she could feel his warmth through her gloves. “Sara, stop and think. Today brought back memories of Timm being burned, yes, but you know I had to go in to get that girl.”
She pulled her fingers out of his grasp and dropped a package of gauze. When she bent over to pick it up, her hands shook. “Yes.”
“There’s a difference between recklessness and courage. I wasn’t being reckless this morning. I was doing what had to be done.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I get your point.”
She reached for a bottle of ointment and the panic she’d felt when Rem had climbed into that car, and