Chapter 9: Out of Line

Mallory's POV

I came down the stairs in Mace's work shirt with my mother's letter still in my hand.

He saw me and said, "I'm all right."

"You're bleeding on your floor."

"I've bled on it before."

I got the first aid kit from the shelf over the workbench, because I knew where he kept it.

He had shown me on the first day without my asking.

"Sit," I said.

He sat on a stool under the work light, and I stood between his knees to reach his eyebrow.

It was split to the bone, a clean cut an inch long.

I cleaned it with saline and a square of gauze.

He didn't flinch once.

Past his shoulder I could see my Sportster on its stand with the rubber hanging off the rims.

My mother had co-signed the loan on that bike.

"I'll have both tires on by Friday," Mace said, following my eyes.

"How?"

"I know a man who sells tires at four in the morning."

"You heard," he said.

"I heard Gage say you were at a guardrail."

"Yes."

"I heard him say you kept quiet."

"Yes." His voice was steady and miserable. "I'll tell you all of it. I asked you for Friday."

I pressed a butterfly strip along the cut, and my hand wasn't as steady as I wanted.

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