Fiona and Lachlan | Late morning | Town Circle
Lachlan huffed out a quiet breath of laughter when Fiona untucked his shirt and slipped her hands beneath it. Some distant part of his mind knew that Fiona would finish what she had started on the night of the bombing, she had said as much in the journals, but he had not thought she would do so right there in the middle of the crowd.
The flesh around the wounds on his back was hot to the touch. They did not feel infected, but the healing was not progressing as fast as Lachlan would have liked. When Fiona’s hands rested on his skin, the warmth that radiated from her instantly began to melt his discomfort away. “Thank you,” he said softly, resting his forehead against hers in a brief gesture of gratitude before he straightened up. “Has anyone else from the village had need of your help yet?”