I can’t tell if she laughs or sobs. “You’re one to talk.”
Lifting a hand, I touch the bandage wrapped around my head. But when I see I’m trembling like…well, like a drunk who’s been too long between drinks, I fist my fingers and let my arm fall back to the hospital bed.
“I’m serious,” I tell her. “Go get some sleep so you can visit Luc first thing tomorrow. He needs you more than I do.”
Because he’s in jail.
Because he killed George Sullivan.
George Sullivan isdead.
I have to force my mind to focus on the thoughts. Otherwise, they don’t seem real. They seem like a dream.
Or a nightmare.
“You need me too, Cash.” She wraps her arms around my neck, and it’s then that I realize a hug is exactly what I’ve been missing.
For one glorious second, I forget my pain and concentrate on the feel of her pressed against me. She’s warm and soft, and if my mind were up to snuff, I know I’d be inundated with a hundred beautiful memories of the times she let me hold her. Let me touch her. Let meteachher.
When she pulls away, I feel steadier and shakier at the same time. Then a flicker of…somethingpasses over her face.
“What is it?” I frown.
She chews her bottom lip and glances out the window. At some point when I wasn’t looking, day turned into night. But the setting of the sun didn’t stop the rain. It lashes against the glass like it’s trying to beat its way inside. Its fury seems to match the chaos in my head.
When she finally looks down at me, there are shadows in her eyes. “I dropped my cell phone last night on my way home, and it got stomped on and broken.”
I blink uncomprehendingly, going over each word. I can’t have heard her correctly. Given the overwhelming clusterfuck of things we’re dealing with right now, a busted cell phone falls directly into the Who Gives a Shit? category.
“Huh?” It isn’t the most eloquent answer, but…
“So I’ve been using yours.” She twists her hands together before going back to picking at that hangnail.
I grab her hand to keep her from more self-mutilation. “Okay? So?”
“So I saw an email from that neurosurgeon at Johns Hopkins.”
A muscle in my cheek twitches. But other than that, I do a damn good job of hiding my alarm. I deleted that email, didn’t I? Erased it from my phone and the cloud and everywhere else?
With more control than I thought myself capable of, I calmly ask, “May I see my phone?”
She nods briskly and pulls my cell from her back pocket. I thumb on the screen and frown when it doesn’t automatically unlock. Is the bandage around my head interfering with—
“Oh, sorry.” She snatches the device and holds it up to her face. Her expression is one of chagrin when she hands it back to me, unlocked. “I didn’t know how long you were going to be out, and I needed a way to communicate, so I redid your security settings. But I can help you change them back.”
I don’t say anything, simply open my email and read the short missive from Dr. Stevens. I breathe a sigh of relief and offer my phone back to her. “It’s okay. You can keep it until you get a replacement. But…do me a favor, okay?”
She nods with unnecessary force. “Anything.”
“Don’t read any more of my emails.”
Pink floods her cheeks, contrasting prettily with her eyes. “Scout’s honor.” She holds up three fingers.
Since Maggie is a woman of her word, I settle back into the pillows, secure in the knowledge I can trust her.
“What did the other email say?” she asks quietly.
I snort, then immediately regret it when my head threatens to explode. “Didn’t you just promise to stop snooping?”
