“Morgan.” That cool hand found his forehead again, then slowly slipped down his face until it covered his eyes. The last of the light in the room was thoroughly blocked, and he relaxed a few more degrees even as a few of those traitorous tears slipped free. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Morgan resisted the urge to ask “really?” and gave a faint nod instead.
“Phil always used the boat to visit.”
Jesus Christ, of course he did.
“Most of the island is a nature reserve. We aren’t allowed to disturb the nests.”
Right. Morgan was a moron. “Got it,” he whispered, his throat tight.
“Mmm. How’s your head?”
“It feels pretty banged up,” Morgan confessed. “And my shoulder is getting more painful.”
The hand left his eyes, replaced quickly with a thick, slightly scratchy cloth to take over shielding him from the light. “I’ll go back to the lighthouse and get you some painkillers.”
Morgan frowned. “Why not just take me back in your boat?”
“The waters are pretty rough right now,” Ty said, a hint of amusement in his smooth voice. “Do you think you could handle bobbing up and down for the fifteen minutes it would take to get you around to the dock?”
Oh, hell no.Just the thought of it was enough to make Morgan go green around the metaphorical gills. “Can I have a little more water?” he asked hoarsely.
“Of course.” There was a sound of water pouring, then the straw was back. Morgan sucked the cup dry, and by the time he was done, he finally felt a little bit clearer in the head. He knew it was temporary, though.
“I locked the door,” he warned as he heard Ty start to move about the room.
“I know where the spare key is.”
Huh. Even Morgan didn’t know that. “Where is it?”
“Under the fake rock in the front.”
“There’s a fake rock out there?”
Ty laughed quietly. “Mmm. I’ll show you when you’re feeling well enough to go home. This shouldn’t take me long.”
Even once he did get the meds, they weren’t going to magically make what Morgan was pretty sure was a concussion go away. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “For invading you like this.” He had the sneaking suspicion he was taking up Ty’s bed. “If you want to grab some of the extra blankets from the lighthouse, we can set up a pallet on the floor for me to sleep on.”
“People get better faster in real beds.”
People …God, Ty had a weird way of phrasing things sometimes. “But I don’t like putting you out.”
“You’re not,” Ty assured him. “I prefer to sleep in the water anyway.”
In … no, he had to mean “on.” “In your boat?”
“Mmm. I’ll be back soon.”
“Wait.” Moving carefully, Morgan eased the cloth off his eyes, holding it in such a way that it blocked most of the light while still letting him see. He blinked through reflexive tears toward the voice that had been taking care of him since before he woke up. “I really appreciate this,” he said to the blurry figure in front of him. Slowly, the multiple images resolved into the figure of a—
A young man. Astartlinglyyoung man, probably younger than Morgan, with smooth skin, enormous dark eyes and thick tendrils of brown hair poking out from beneath the woolen beanie he wore. He had pale skin, so white it was almost blue in the shadows, and almost every inch of it was covered by a thick, cream-colored sweater and brown cargo pants.
“You’re welcome,” the person who couldn’t possibly be Ty said before he exited the room, leaving Morgan alone with his roiling thoughts.
What. The. Hell.
Chapter three
