He'd come down to get their precious supply of ointment, so he could keep an eye on it. It was the only thing they had which couldn't be replaced easily. He hefted the bag their supplies were in: the iron knife, the salt, and the crystal bottle of ointment. Better be getting back to the room and get some sleep. Still he stood there, waiting. What if she were still awake? Would she still have that hurt look in her eyes? Maybe I should sleep in the car? Nothing good could come of getting too close to her. She'll be hurt. I'll be hurt. Too late, bucko. Too late. He slammed the trunk lid. "Damn, Lucas! This is all your fault, little brother." Promising his brother all manner of punishment in this world and the next, Gaelen stomped back to Mrs. O'Hara's establishment. Another muttered threat to Lucas's well-being froze on his lips unspoken. He stopped beside the panel van in front of Mrs. O'Hara's that hadn't been there when he'd left. He slammed through the front door, eyes up. His heart fell to the soles of his feet when he saw the door to the small bedroom open.
