Rough hands gently cupped my face. “Zellie, what happened?” Concern.
Arms lifting me, holding me to a warm body. “Zellie, damn it, what happened?” Fear.
No, no, no. The warm cocoon is gone, with a firm sofa beneath me. “Who did this to you?”
Tug, tug. A pull on each side of my braids. “Come on, Zellie, come back to me.” Care.
I blink slowly, but my vision spins. Dark, furrowed eyebrows and honey eyes. Leo?
“I’m here.” I must have said that out loud. Why does he have to look so damned good when he’s concerned about me?
“I think,” working my mouth is an effort, my tongue like sandpaper, and my mouth a desert, “I may have a concussion.”
“I think you may have more than that going on. Stars above, Zellie, what the fuck happened?” Anger.
I sigh and close my eyes, the exhaustion blanketing me. “No, sweetheart, stay with me. We’re going to get you out of these clothes. Is that okay?”
“Mhm,” I hum in approval, my heart clinging to the term of endearment. For once, it doesn’t sound like he’s using it mockingly.
“Okay. I’m going to take care of you.” The fury in his voice has disappeared, replaced by a sincerity I’m not accustomed to hearing from him.
Someone to take care of me? “That’s nice.”
The sound of running water, hands softly pulling away my burnt clothes. I’m enveloped in lukewarm water, a cloth wiping away the soot. Fingers gently massaging my scalp, lathering and rinsing my hair. Wrapped in a plush towel, my surroundings fade. I hear a string of curses and then… nothing.
“You were right to get us here. Never feel bad for calling in the middle of the night, especially when it’s an emergency. You did the right thing.”
My eyes open with a pop, the night’s events rushing back. The healer from when I was in the pods stands before me, adjusting a mask on my face. “Welcome back, Zellie. You gave him quite a scare.” Leo? Scared for me? “I’m treating you for smoke inhalation by administering oxygen. I’ve also treated your burns with a cooling ointment. The pain should be gone, and the wounds themselves should be fully healed by morning. You mentioned thinking you had a concussion? Can I ask you some questions?” Pressure mounts in my chest and in my head. This is too much. My eyes search the room before finding Leo sitting in an armchair in the corner, his head resting on his hands. Relief floods my system.He stayed.
I answer Pia’s questions. Yes, I’m nauseous, the world is blurry, and my head feels like it’s been split open. She examines my eyes and looks for a wound, but only a slight bump is found. With a mild concussion diagnosis, pain pills, and an oxygen mask, she deems me safe to rest with a promise to check on me in two days. Until then, no training is allowed. Leo eventually nods off as I sort through what Orion put me through and how Leo, of all people, took care of me. I stare at Leo’s sleeping figure until the world fades.He’s so beautiful.
My sleep is dreamless. When I wake, my body feels significantly better, but I’m so,sothirsty. I spy the legs of the armchair in my periphery. During the night, Leo moved his chair to be right next to my bed. His bulky frame is slumped awkwardly in the delicate seat. He looks so peaceful. His thick eyelashes frame his closed lids while I observe the steady inhale and exhale of his chest. Removing the oxygen mask, I prop myself up on my elbows, slowly attempting to rise and swing my body out of the bed. Instantly, as if he sensed the movement, Leo’s eyes snapped open, boring into mine.
“What do you need?” he asks groggily, voice thick with sleep.
I shake my head. “Nothing that I can’t get myself. Please rest.”
Leo stands. “Tell me.”
I stifle a slight smile; he’s as stubborn as I am. “Water, please.”
He walks into the main room, talking the whole time. “Good thing these apartments are set up so similarly.” He emerges with a glass filled to the brim and hands it to me before easing back into the armchair. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, thank you. The healer worked wonders.”
Leo nods, leaning forward. “Who did this?”
“No one. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You certainly weren’t fine last night when I found you slumped in my doorway.” His voice has a controlled calmness to it, as if he is holding himself back.
I’m not an idiot; I know what I look like, and I canfeelit. Bumps, scrapes, and burns. “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of me.”
“Was it your sponsor?”
I groan, knowing he will not let this go. “Leo…”
“Was it?” The eye contact is intense.
