“What happened?”
“Doctor, does he need stitches?”
The doctor glanced at the wound, frowning. “This is deep. He’ll definitely need stitches. Prep the anesthetic.”
Lucie’s stomach flipped just looking at it.
“It hurts, babe,” Steven said, his voice low and rough.
“…It won’t hurt once they numb it.”
A moment later, the doctor injected the anesthetic and carefully disinfected the cut.
“Mr. Heath, I’m going to start stitching now.”
“Alright.” Steven’s reply was cool and clipped. He reached out with his good hand and tugged Lucie closer.
“Stay with me, honey. It hurts,” he said, almost childishly.
Lucie couldn’t even look, much less think of anything comforting to say.
Minutes ticked by.
The doctor finished, dabbed some medicine on, and wrapped Steven’s hand. “All set. Come back in two weeks to get the stitches out. And don’t get it wet for at least a week.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
Lucie let out a sigh, half exasperated, half resigned. “Let’s go.”
“I’m in this state and you’re not even going to take me home?” Steven complained.
Lucie frowned. “I’ll call the driver to pick you up.”
“No way. I want you to come home with me.”
“Steven, we’re… we’re in the middle of a divorce.”

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