Chapter 162

• The first aid kit was where it always was, tucked in a drawer in the kitchen. When I breezed inside, Serena was by the cooking gas. Her hand paused over the pot, her mouth fell open, and her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when she saw me.
• I didn’t even bother with the courtesy of a greeting. I didn’t even fucking bother to fully notice how radiantly she wasglowing in yet another yellow dress that stopped high above her knees. Opening the drawer, I yanked out the fucking box with more force than necessary, spilling nearly half its contents onto the counter. Bandages, antiseptic wipes, gauze—they scattered everywhere, and I cursed under my breath.
• I wasn’t sure which annoyed the hell out of me more: not being able to recall the last time I needed to use a first aid box or needing to use one at all.