Sighing, I lean over, close enough to catch the musk of his scent clinging to the bed. It’s a little fresh considering it’s been three fucking days he’s been right here, much like this, fighting through a detox, and yet I find that I don’t hate it. The underlyinghimbeneath it all smells … I don’t know … kinda nice.
We can unpack that later.
“You gonna wake back up anytime soon?”
He doesn’t respond. Barely even breathes.
“There’s toast like you asked for.”
Nothing.
I swallow back the familiarity of his motionlessness and clear my throat. “I wouldn’t-wouldn’t want that shit either, but the nurse is gonna kick my ass.”
That. That’s my reason.
Someone needs to watch over him when Bobbie can’t, and I happen to be the closest person with some semblance of training for this.
Not even gonna think about the fact that not another soul has been to visit him beside me.
That’s all.
This is basically work. I’m volunteering to watch over someone. Make sure he makes it to the next stage with the right amount of triage.
The idea squares my shoulders, and I reach out, tapping what I think is his arm.
“Emmett.”
The mound of blankets shoots straight up, scrambling as far across the bed as he can get before he’s practically falling out of the other side.
Shit.
My stomach drops and I snap my hand back.
“I’m sorry. It’s just me.” I shake my head at myself when he pants, eyes wide like a feral animal cornered and unseeing as he looks all over the room. “Emmett, it’s just me. Tristen. Do you remember me?”
Those eyes, haunted and untamed, swing my direction and look right through me.
He stares, his thin shoulders lifting with his heavy breaths, pinning me to the spot with just the look in his eyes.
“What do you want from me?” he finally asks, and I do what I do best.
Mask.
“For you to eat something.” I plaster on a smile and tip the small plate next to me with a finger. “It’s cold as shit, but it’s something.”
“Are you going to touch me again if I come get it?” he growls out and my brows shoot up high.
“What? No.No. I …” My shoulder sag and that fake smile slips off. “I wasn’t trying to invade your space or anything, bub. I was just tryna wake you up.”
“Why? Life is better when I’m asleep.”
Shit.
Talk about a punch to the chest.
I lick my drying lips and try another smile. It’s shaky at best because I know the feeling all too well. “You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
