CHAPTER 11
Sierra sticks her head around the curtain of the cubicle where I’m picking glass out the arm of a single mom whose glass shower door imploded while she was giving her young son a bath.
“I need a consult as soon as you’re done here,” she lets me know, her tone grave.
I nod and handle the rest of the glass extraction before sealing up some of the smaller wounds with glue. Luckily, the cuts weren’t that deep or long, so glue should do the job just fine.
My body heats with the memory of the last time I sewed someone up. Two days ago with Waylon watching me in that intense way of his the entire time. Even then, the s****l tension had been set to crackling, and it eventually led to yesterday’s explosion—or should I say explosions?
Yeah, come for Teacher. Come all over this hand l
