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I look back down at his hand. “You need stitches.” “You sure?” “Yeah,” I say. “I can drive you to the ER.” “Can’t you just stitch it up here?” I shake my head. “I don’t have the right supplies. I need sutures. It’s pretty deep.” He uses hisI look back down at his hand. “You need stitches.” “You sure?” “Yeah,” I say. “I can drive you to the ER.” “Can’t you just stitch it up here?” I shake my head. “I don’t have the right supplies. I need sutures. It’s pretty deep.” He uses his other hand to rifle through the first-aid kit. He pulls out a spool of thread and hands it to me. “Do your best.” “It’s not like I’m sewing on a damn button, Miles.” “I’m not spending the whole day in an emergency room for a cut. Just do what you can. I’ll be fine.” I don’t want him to spend the day in an emergency room, either. That means he wouldn’t be here. “If your hand gets infected and you die, I’m denying any part in this.” “If my hand gets infected and I die, I’d be too dead to blame you.”...more