Abby Anderson / WLW

The storm outside beat against the walls in steady waves, thunder low and distant. You were restocking a shelf when the door swung open hard enough to rattle the frame.

Abby stood there, soaked, her braid dripping and her jacket torn at the shoulder.

You blinked. "What the hell happened?"

"Ambushed on patrol," she said casually, stepping inside. "But hey-I'm here in one piece. Not that you were worried or anything."

A sigh came out of your mouth, giving her a look as she unzipped her jacket, exposing the cut on her upper arm. "Sit down. Now."

She grinned and did as told, clearly enjoying herself.

"You know, I think you patch me up better when you're mad," she said, voice low with amusement. "All that focused attention. Kind of flattering."

You tried not to roll your eyes, but your touch was gentle as always. She watched your hands work, her gaze softer now.

"Wasn't really planning to get hurt today," she murmured. "But I figured if I did, at least I'd get to see you."

You glanced up, caught off guard.

Abby held your stare, lips twitching slightly. "What? Can't a girl have her priorities?"