“I’ll go let the night nurse know you’re finally awake.”
There’s a tonelessness to his voice that belies the tumultuous emotions pouring across our bond. He opens the sliding glass door without a word.
“Oh! Is everything all right, Marcus?”
It’s an unfamiliar feminine voice.
“He’s awake.” The words are worse than toneless this time. They’re tired… hopeless.
That dread intensifies, dropping my stomach to the ground.
There’s a startled exclamation. “Oh my goodness!”
And then a woman in her mid-forties stands at the threshold of the room. Her dark hair is pulled back with a claw clip, and her lanyard is decorated with horseshoes. Marcus leans against the threshold, his arms crossed and his mouth drawn in a thin line, as she applies sanitizer to her hands and grabs a set of gloves. The sounds trigger my muscle memory in the worst possible way. I have to swallow back the bile crowding my already aching throat.
“Cole? I’m Jessica. I’m your nurse tonight,” she says as she crosses the room, looking at a set of monitors I hadn’t noticedbefore. The chimes are turned off and the screens are dimmed. After a minute, she turns to me.
“How are you feeling? Are you able to sit up?”
I try to shake my head, but my body’s slow to respond.
“N-no,” I mumble.
Marcus takes a step closer before stopping, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The bond practically hums in my chest from the messy mix of worry and anger coming from him.
“That’s all right,” Jessica says. “It’s not uncommon after a crisis. Here, let me adjust the bed. You let me know when you’re comfortable.”
She presses buttons on the side of the bed. And then Marcus is suddenly at my side, moving pillows and blankets around and behind me, silently helping.
“How does that feel?” Jessica asks.
Marcus drops his arms and takes a retreating step toward the door. Jessica doesn’t seem bothered by him at all, moving one of the blankets around my legs. It takes me too long to realize it’s one from my nest at home.
“It feels okay.”
“Great. Let me check with the doctors what they’d like to do.”
I catch Marcus leaving the room, his gaze averted as he focuses on his phone. His shoulders are rolled, and weariness weighs down the bond.
That festering fear I’ve had since running into him at the gala surfaces, swallowing me whole. Of course he wouldn’t want me like this, broken and sick. Tears line my lashes and fall down my face before I can blink them away. My hands tremble relentlessly as I try to brush them off my cheeks. My body feels so strange, I only manage to make a mess of them.
“Oh, don’t panic,” Jessica soothes. “He’s calling your other Alphas. They’ve had a plan in place since the doctors weaned youoff the sedatives a few days ago once all your bloodwork finally stabilized without additional medication.”
She gently grabs my right hand. It takes me a minute to realize she’s checking an IV. I don’t say anything as she runs through whatever checklist she has memorized, letting her move me as needed while she collects my pulse and checks my breathing and a host of other things. When she’s finished, she pulls out her phone and taps on the screen for a bit.
“All right. Both of the doctors say you’re free to eat. The cafeteria doesn’t open for another few hours, but I know some workarounds if you’re interested in something.”
I don’t want to be discussing food with a random nurse. I want Marcus, want his touch and his scent and the heat of his body pressed against mine. Half of me is convinced if he just presses me into this hospital bed, surrounds me with his body’s warmth, that the foreign heavy weakness in my limbs will go away, and I’ll be able to feel them properly again. The tears come faster now, and I can’t help the quiet, racking sobs that shake my entire body.
“Cole?” Jessica’s voice has gone wary.
The reflexive swallows burns. “Um… just water.”
Forty-Three
MARCUS
Charlotte doesn’t pick up when I dial her the second time, so I call Megan instead. It’s a shit thing to do since she’s supposed to be at work in another few hours, but promises aren’t always convenient. I glance at the clock hung above the nurses’ station. Nearly four in the morning. I tilt my head back against the wall of Cole’s room and let my eyes slide shut.
