When Jesse swayed, Gideon’s hand shot out and caught his wrist. “You’re in no shape to go anywhere just yet.” He stood, though he kept getting distracted by the scarlet streaks running down Jesse’s stomach. “We at least need to get you cleaned off.”
Jesse moved to shrug off his torn shirt, but when he tried to pull his wrist free of Gideon’s fingers, Gideon only tightened his grip. Seemingly unperturbed by Gideon’s steel fingers, Jesse held a piece of his shirt in his other hand and wiped the drying blood from his stomach. “I’m in fine shape.”
He rolled his eyes. “I let go, and you’ll fall on your ass.” When Jesse continued to try and clean away the blood, Gideon batted his hand away. “Come here.”
Without waiting for a response, he hauled him toward the front pew. He pushed him to sit f
