{Wattpad Featured Story}
Nolan Clay was convicted of murder and dishonorably discharged from his marksman position in the Navy SEALs all in one night...for a crime he didn't commit. After spending ten years in prison, all Nolan wants to do is live a...
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Nolan watched nervously as Grace unwrapped several white packages of medical supplies. The younger man she'd sent to build a fire was still working on setting the logs upright, and after a few moments he seemed satisfied with its structure and lit one of the few matches Grace had retrieved from the camp.
Soon a tiny fire sprang up between the dry logs, issuing more smoke than warmth. It was enough for Grace, however, as she sanitized her instruments.
She walked over to Nolan and knelt down next to him. "Alrighty," she said with a forced smile and began organizing the instruments on the ground.
Nolan noticed a large, bloody spot on her leg. "Hey, you should take care of that first."
Grace followed his stare. "It's fine."
"Grace, I'm serious."
Her eyes bored into his. "We need to get that piece of metal out of there." She glanced around at the people strung around the growing fire and gestured for one of the two women to come help.
The woman, who was somewhere in her thirties, walked hesitantly towards them. She was the one dressed in the dirty business suit and Nolan noticed a cut on her leg. She'd been the one who'd been carrying the man that was shot. "Is there something I can do?" She asked meekly.
Grace nodded. "Nolan has a few other wounds here to take care of. I figured we could get him fixed up quicker if we worked together." She nodded towards the two people lying unconscious. "So we can get to them as soon as possible. What's your name?"
"Angela..." The woman said, her voice carrying a slight tremble, "Angela Tyson."
Grace handed her a roll of gauze and a tube of liquid. Her eyes flicked up at Nolan. "Ready?"
"Go for it." Nolan said with what he hoped was an encouraging grin, although it looked more like a grimace.
Grace carefully peeled his shirt away from his bloodied skin to reveal the shrapnel wound. At the same time, Angela began cleaning the gash on his forearms with antiseptic wipes.
Grace placed two fingers on either side of the wound to keep it open and brandished a set of medical tweezers. Her brow was bent low and she kept biting the side of her lip nervously, which didn't make Nolan feel any better.
When she gently touched the metal to the wound, it felt like she's stabbed Nolan's stomach with a knife. He flinched and Grace immediately jerked back with a curse.
"If you're going to be jumpy, I can't do it!" She said.
Nolan clenched his jaw. "Scared?"
Her eyes shot daggers as she bent back over her work. Nolan braced himself.
She went back in with the tweezers, and Nolan shut his eyes tightly. He focused on the other wound that was being mended by Angela. The slow wrapping and tightening of the gauze around his arm was somewhat calming.
