His Favorite Shirt novel · Chapter 7 of 24

Chapter 7: Splinter

Bea took the camera cases up to the cottage, and I took the invitation to the boathouse.

I did not know why I went there.

The boathouse stood on stilts at the end of the lodge's private dock, with its big doors open to the water.

Inside it smelled of cedar and engine oil, and Nolan was on his knees beside a green canoe with a rag in his hand.

"You can't be in here," he said. "I keep the lake rules."

"Your mother told me to come tell her about the date."

"My mother tells everyone that."

I stepped over a coil of rope and put my hand out to steady myself on the edge of the boat rack.

A rusted cleat caught the heel of my palm and opened it across.

I made no sound.

Nolan stood up and was across the boathouse in three steps.

"Let me see."

"It's fine."

"It's bleeding on my floor, Thora."

He took my wrist and turned my hand over under the work lamp.

His fingers were rough and warm, and he held my arm with great care.

The cut was long but not deep.

He sat me on an overturned crate and brought a first-aid tin from a shelf.

"Hold it up," he said. "Higher than your heart."

I held it up.

He cleaned it with something that stung, and I hissed, and he looked at my face.

"Say it hurts."

"It hurts."

"Good. People like you say it's fine until it's infected."

"People like me?"

"People who've learned to say it's fine."

Keep reading free with an account. Start His Favorite Shirt from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.