ISLA
"A couple of days," Isla confirms with a slow nod; she plays quite a good part of the teacher to his toddler's tantrum, offering him a smile that's both warm but leaves no room for argument, and settles back to grab up the supplies she needs to clean him up. "I wouldn't dream of going without you," she assures him of going to bed, carefully wiping away the fluid and ensuring that the cut isn't too deep. It only takes a small dressing and he's good to go - but then again, all the damage is on the inside.
"There. Good as new, Cal," she tells him, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze and leaning in to kiss his forehead, before helping to get him on his feet. Isla is content to tuck herself beneath his arm as she guides him into their bedroom, a space that's as much his these days as it is hers. "You want me to read to you?" she offers. "I've either got a medical textbook on performing craniotomies, or I have the ghost story I was reading."
"There. Good as new, Cal," she tells him, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze and leaning in to kiss his forehead, before helping to get him on his feet. Isla is content to tuck herself beneath his arm as she guides him into their bedroom, a space that's as much his these days as it is hers. "You want me to read to you?" she offers. "I've either got a medical textbook on performing craniotomies, or I have the ghost story I was reading."
she's a runner
rebel, and a stunner
rebel, and a stunner
