As I looked up at Lyon, my eyes were bloodshot and bore a hint of naivety that invited a feeling of maternal instinct.

Lyon's eyes darkened, and his body hardened as he fought the urge to kiss me.

When he was done with the oral gel, he withdrew his hand and disposed of the swab in the trash.

"Ready to go. Just don't mess with the blister tonight, and it'll be okay in the morning," he told me.

"Okay, I see," I replied.

I looked down, recalling that suddenly the soup was cooking on the stovetop in the kitchen. When I looked up and asked Lyon if I could have...