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Sunshine bursts through the small doorway of the tent, washing you in comforting warmth. But still you shiver, exhaustion and fear gripping the edges of your mind like a fog.
It only clouds your thoughts more as you stare down at Billy, spread on a makeshift canvas bedroll. You’d done your best to wash away the blood and sand that stained his skin, but it only revealed how pale and ill he looked. The sight of it makes your stomach knot so tightly you can barely breathe.
“What were you thinking?” you whisper at his sleeping form, gently pressing a cool, wet cloth on his brow.
As the fabric touches his skin, he gasps and his eyes shoot open.
You flinch in surprise, but jerk forwards as the large man tries to struggle into a sitting position.
“Stay still!” you order, frowning as the wounds on his side you’d spent so long cleaning starts bleeding once more at his sharp movement.
He hisses loudly in pain and you help him to sit himself up, though he wobbles a little and you put a hand on him to keep him steady. His gaze flicks frantically around the tent before landing on you, and you see then tension in his body soften.
“What happened?” he asks, his voice cracking. You hand him a mug of water, which he gulps down gratefully.
“You were on deck,” you say, taking the mug back, before moving your focus to cleaning his wound again, “one of the new crew was struggling with the anchor…” Your words trail when you see the memory flood his face, his handsome features twisting into a wince.
The pole had slipped free of the man’s hand, sending the wheel swirling around in a flurry. Billy had dragged the man out of the way, but had taken the force of the hit instead.
“How is he?”
You frown and sit back. “Seriously? You’re sat here with a chunk taken out of your side, not able to move for the bruising, and you’re asking about him?” You scoff a laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”
His lips curve into a half smile at your reaction, before he jumps as you press a little harder on his wound trying to clean out the sand.
“You don’t play doctor very often.” His gaze flicks up to meet yours.
“I wouldn’t do it for anyone else, you know that.” The honesty in your voice makes your words catch in your throat and you feel heat on your cheeks, so turn away to hide it.
He catches your hand as you move, and you twist back to face him. His grip is firm but soft, the touch sending a wave of warmth flooding through you and making the chill that had seized you before dissipate.
“Thank you,” he says, his thumb rubbing along your palm. It’s an innocent touch, but you think it might set your heart exploding in your chest.
You smile, unable to hold it back. “Of course.”
He lets go of your hand, and it falls to his chest. He carefully lays down, his eyes falling shut, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. It’s a soothing rhythm, one that calms your fears.
He’s going to be all right.
The realisation hits you like a hammer against glass, and the adrenaline you’d been running on all day and night finally cracks. Fatigue grips you and you can’t help but flop down beside Billy.
The gap you’d left between you and him is suddenly closed when he shifts himself close. You barely move as his arm curls around you, and instead you revel in the feel of it, allowing your eyes to flicker shut.
You’d never slept better in all your life.