“I-I’m okay. I’m fine,” I stammered, chanting the words to myself more than to Reed. With a squeak of anguish, I yanked the top over my head and tossed it to the floor, assessing the wounds that traveled up to the edge of my sports bra. “It stings,” I breathed out. I was standing half-naked in front of him, but the terror trumped the embarrassment. Frazzled, I tugged a hand towel off the bar and shoved it under the running water, dampening it, squeezing out the excess liquid, then pressing it to my wound. I wheezed as my eyelids slammed shut, holding back a wave of biting tears. Reed was
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