"What?"
He snaps to attention. "What?"
"What were you smiling about?"
He smiles again. "Oh, nothing. You just reminded me of another patient I used to have."
Ashton looks up, and, seeing Michael's zoned out again, meets my eyes. "Her name was Cosette, she had what's called muscular dystrophy, basically her muscles stopped working over time. So after a while, she couldn't walk, and talking got harder, and she couldn't brush her teeth. So her mom would wheel her in every week or so . . . " he trails off when Michael looks up, but his eyes are still far away.
"Her mom would bring her in for a really thorough exam and cleaning and preventive care, and he," Ashton gestures to Michael, careful not to say his name. "would carry her from her wheelchair to the chair and just chat with her while he worked. It was really sweet to watch."
He pauses, an odd expression on his face. "But she, uh, she passed away two summers ago."
I frown. "Oh, I'm sorry."
He shrugs and smiles a little. "She's happier now."
Michael strokes through my hair again, seeming to return mentally. He quirks his eyebrows at me and laughs.
Ashton clears his throat. "Anyway. Is the topical all tingly yet?"
"Yeah,"
"Awesome. How about we get you done?"
My stomach starts to tighten. "Sure."
His face softens. "There isn't going to be any pain, just some pressure That okay with you?"
I let out a nervous laugh. "Whatever you say."
He flashes me a smile before he lifts his mask to cover his mouth and nose.
I take a deep breath.
He mimics me. "Scared?"
I let it out and nod.
"Get it over with?"
I nod again.
"Okay, you just close those pretty eyes and open really big. Easy enough?"
"Easy enough," my voice cracks. Michael squeezes my hand.
I take another deep breath and close my eyes. Metal clicks against a tray by my head. I can't stop a whimper, and my eyes crack open out of reflex.
"Eyes closed," Ashton reminds me. "Mouth open."
I feel the needle push deep into my jaw, a hard pressure making my fists clench and my knees lift a few inches. My head starts to turn.
Immediately, an ungloved hand holds the side of my face, thumb rubbing across my cheekbone.
"Keep still for me, hon," Ashton murmurs.
I grip Michael's hand harder and take thin, tense breaths until the needle withdraws and clicks back on the tray.
When I open my eyes, I see Ashton's eyes, leaned close enough to mine that I notice they're hazel. Then I see Michael off to the left, still holding my hand, his other pressed to my cheek, Luke on the right, bent to look closer, and Calum leaned over Luke's shoulder, the cell phone still held to his ear.
"What are they all doing?"
Everyone laughs and turns like they're minding their own business.
Ashton shrugs, raising the chair so I'm sitting up, and grabs the compresses before they all fall into my lap. "'Good technique', according to Calum. How was it?"
