Free Capturing Today (TimeShifters Book 2) by Jessica Keller, Jess Evander

sooner? I should have made him stay on the cot all day. I should’ve never let him go to the front. I should not have allowed him to shoulder the weight of that man when I knew he was already so run down. I should …
    But should won’t help Michael.
    In the history of mankind, should have has never solved anything.
    Move.
    I cross the small space and kneel in front of him, placing my hands on his knees so I don’t startle him. He’s still covered in blood. “We need to get you out of these clothes.”
    I pull up his foot and prop it on my thigh. Unlace his boot, ease his foot out, and then remove his sock. No black, rotting skin. Thankfully. I do the same with his other boot. His feet are clammy. I rub one between my hands. A firefighter used the same method to bring a kitten back to life in a YouTube video I saw once.
    Let’s not tell Michael I made that comparison.
    Michael’s eyes slide open. “My feet are gross.”
    “Gross feet are the least of your problems.” I set his foot back down, grab for the end of his shirt, and help him pull it over his head. Waves of heat roll off his body. Ugly purplish blue marks parade up the right side of his ribcage. I tentatively lift his arm. There’s a bruise there too. That explains why he winced last night when he rolled onto his side.
    I extend my fingers to touch the marks but stop before making contact. “Good grief, Michael. What happened to you?”
    “A guy with shell shock had an episode. Knocked me down. Started kicking me before they could pull him off.” The corner of his lips twitch, almost like it wants to become a smile. But that would be too much effort. “At least he only got me in the head once or twice.”
    “He kicked your head?” I can’t hold myself back any longer. Stepping close, I cradle his head to my stomach. Let one of my hands drift down to rub back and forth over his shoulder blades. Every cell in my body zings out of control. They scream at me to wrap my arms around this man and protect him from all hurt. He’s been through too much already. Why this too?
    Michael’s hands press into the small of my back. My palm rises and falls against his deep efforts to take in air.
    He needs me to take care of him. Not steal some self-gratifying comfort.
    I ease out of his arms and go back onto my knees so I can better examine him for injuries. There’s a scar that looks like a swoosh under the right side of his ribcage. It’s faded. Old. How did he get that one?
    I crawl to the trunk at the end of his bed and find some clean socks. Digging, I locate Michael’s Keleusma backpack, which is bulging.
    “How much junk did you cram into your Mary Poppins’ bag of wonder?”
     The zipper takes some effort to work open because the bag is so stuffed full. A flashlight, drops to make clean water, a bottle, a baggie full of things that look like jump drives, and a healthy stash of beef jerky. Deep in the bottom, there are also two sets of clean clothes.
    Well, by clean I mean, they aren’t covered in blood. They smell like he tried to wash them at some point and tucked them back into the bag before they were dry.
    A shudder works itself through Michael’s body.
    “Sorry.” I’m on my feet, finding water. I soak a pair of the socks in a bowl and head back to the cot. “This is going to make you colder, but I don’t want to leave the blood on you.” I slip my hand into one of the socks.
    He yelps and arches away when I touch his side.
    “I’m trying to help you.”
    “I know.” He grumbles.         
    I wash down his chest. His side. His arms. When I get to his back, I freeze. The scar from the Wall Street explosion takes up sixty percent of his back. I did that to him.
    I bite my lip and blink rapidly. Scrub off the dirt and blood as fast as I can.
    In the process of washing his torso, the sock has turned deep gray. I peel it off and grab the second one from the bowl of water. I don’t slip it on. Instead, I use it to wipe his face