He imagined that she brushed the hair back from his forehead.
But it was a nice thing to imagine, so he told her, "It's not supposed to hurt me."
"What hurts?" Her voice was closer than he thought it should be. Was she sitting on the floor next to him? She seemed close. He tried to open his eyes and check but they wouldn't cooperate. "Your hand?"
"No. M'heart." He was slurring a little. If he could sleep off this awful headache, he'd wake up and find it was all a dream. No Max. No baby. No pain thudding through him with each beat of his heart. "I've got a heart of stone, haven't you heard? That's what everyone says."
But if that was true, why did it hurt so badly?
"Shh. You should rest." She touched him again. A brush of her fingers against his temple. And then her voice was far away. "Conrad? He's in my apartment. Not very coherent. No, he's fine, I think. Burning up. They did what? No, no he can stay here. No one would think to look for him here. You can send a guard." She rattled off an address and then she was quiet.
He liked her. Probably too much. He didn't want to like her. Or anyone else. If he let someone else in, he might get hurt again.
But then he wouldn't have anyone to nurse him, either. No one to ply him with pain relievers and cool water. To brush his hair off his forehead.
He was arguing with himself over the finer points when the darkness finally took him.
He woke in the night,throwing off the blanket that weighted him down and pulling at his shirt that felt like it was suffocating him.
And Crystal was there again, with medicine and cool water, unbuttoning his shirt when his fingers wouldn't work. He hated to leave his undershirt on when it stuck to his body with sickly sweat, but his sense of propriety wouldn't let him strip down in her apartment. He asked her to flip on the news, but she refused.
He got all imperial on her, demanding it. But since he was as weak as a baby, there was nothing he could do when she refused to fetch the remote and turn on the telly.
She did fetch another cool, damp washcloth. This time she laid it across his face as he leaned his head back against the couch cushions.
He fell asleep like that.
