"I'll take care of it," he said softly, eyes showing the concern he felt even if the wound was small. Opening the kit, he pulled out some disinfectant and got a cotton ball damp with it.

"This will sting," he warned as he lightly pressed it to the small wound. They were shallow, yes. But he refused to let them go unattended to.

And all the while he could only think of the following: If only he'd run faster. He should have gotten there sooner. If he'd been there sooner she wouldn't have gotten hurt. Because in his mind, in the end, this was somehow his fault.