“Yes,” he says. “There’s some food in the freezer. We can heat it up.”
“That’s great.”
I lie back against the couch. The tiredness has returned, and with it, my headache. He’s holding that book he’s reading, but he’s not paying it much mind. “You really called in a doctor?” I ask. “For… the flu?”
“I’m thorough. And we didn’t know it was the flu last night. Now we do.”
“It was the logical conclusion.” I turn on my side. “Your sister told me that you’re overprotective.”
The second it’s out, I regret it. He’s not overprotective of me. He wouldn’t be.
But he lowers his book. “She said that, did she?”
“Yeah.”
“So you two have discussed me.”
“I asked her for some advice once, yes.”
His eyes land on mine. “That’s unfair. There’s no one I can ask about you.”
“Yes. Me.”
“You’re an unreliable witness,” he says, and looks back down at his book. There’s a stillness to him tonight that I don’t entirely recognize. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was uncomfortable.
“So are you? Overprotective?” I ask.
“I would remove the over from that word.” He puts the book away and walks into the adjoining kitchen. I hear him rummage around in the freezer.Conversation over.We eat, and when I’m close to passing out again, he helps me into one of the guest bedrooms.
I collapse under the covers. “Funny,” I tell him, standing by the wooden doorjamb. He fits in here, too. Just like he does in Italy, and just like he did in Monte Carlo. Ever malleable.
“What’s funny?”
“I slept for so long, but I’m still exhausted.”
“You’re sick,” he says. “Sleep.”
I turn onto my side. “You’ll sleep in here, too, won’t you? I know we don’t need to. There are other rooms. But…”
“I’ll keep an eye on you,” he promises. “The doctor told me to.”
“Right. Good.”
“I told you, I can’t have you die on me,” he says, and there’s an odd note to his voice that makes me think that’s not entirely a joke.
I’m asleep before he slips beneath the covers beside me, lost to a dreamless fever that knocks me out entirely.
But he dreams again that night.
CHAPTER 55
PAIGE
I wake up to a scream.
It sends my heart racing, and I fly up in bed to look around. It takes me a second to realize who it is. That it’s Rafe, beside me, on top of the covers. There’s a discarded book beside him and the bedside light is still on. Like he fell asleep reading.
He turns toward me, one of his arms extending. He finds my torso and curls up. And then he screams again.
