As they reached the car, Garrett Vincent helped Rachel into the passenger seat, carefully buckling her seatbelt before slipping into the driver's side and starting the engine.
The car pulled away from the police station, heading toward Rachel's apartment.
On the way, Garrett made an unexpected stop, pulling into a pharmacy to buy a tube of bruise ointment.
"Really, I don't need ointment. They're just a few scratches. They'll fade in a couple of days," Rachel protested.
"To me," he said, his voice low and firm, "nothing about you is a small matter."
He seemed determined.
He pulled the car over to the curb, took her injured arm gently in his hands, and prepared to apply the ointment himself.
"I… I can do it!" she said quickly, snatching the tube from him.
She twisted off the cap, squeezed a small amount onto her fingers, and dabbed it onto the red marks on her skin.
The ointment was cool, spreading easily and slowly soaking in.
There weren't many bruises.
