The words hang between us, heavy and raw.
Don’t fall for this. He said he wanted you before, and then he pulled back. Words don’t mean anything.
But his eyes—God, his eyes.
“Stone...” I don’t know what I’m going to say, but he doesn’t give me the chance to figure it out.
“I’m not asking for anything right now,” he continues. “You’re hurt and need to heal. You have every right to tell me to go to hell after the way I’ve handled this.” He reaches out, letting his fingers brush my cheek. “But I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere. And when you’re ready—when you’re healed and thinking clearly and not pumped full of painkillers—I want to have a real conversation. About us and what this could be.”
I should say no. I need to protect myself, keep my walls up, refuse to give him another chance to break me again.
Instead, I hear myself say, “And if I’m never ready?”
“Then I’ll wait.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes.”
I search his face for the lie, for the catch, for the inevitable moment when he’ll pull back again. I don’t find it.
“Your timing is horrible,” I say finally.
“I know.”
I shut my eyes then open one, glaring at him. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“I know that too.”
I close my eyes, leaning back on the bed. “And I’m still angry.”
“You should be.”
“If you pull that ‘we can’t’ bullshit again when we have that conversation, I will end you. I know people who know how to make bodies disappear.”
His chuckle washes over me. “Noted.”
The curtain to my left rustles.
I’ve almost forgotten I’m not alone in this room. The hospital has stuck me in a semi-private situation—two beds separated by a flimsy curtain that does nothing to block sound. I’ve heard my roommate twisting and turning in the night, muttering soft muffled curses that have worked their way into my drugged dreams. Whoever she is, she’s got a mouth on her.
I haven’t seen her yet. Haven’t had the energy to investigate. But now the curtain shifts, and a face peers around the edge.
The woman is young, maybe early to mid-twenties. Her dark blonde hair needs washing, and her hazel eyes are sharp and assessing despite the exhaustion shadowing them. Her nose and lips are slightly too big for her drawn face, but it lends her an interesting, unique look. I can tell she’s pretty, underneath the bruises.
And there are a lot of bruises.
She doesn’t flinch when she sees Stone. Doesn’t apologize for interrupting. She cooly assesses him with a look that says she’s sized up dangerous men before and knows to keep her distance.
“Could you keep it down a little?” she asks me, her voice flat. “All the beeping and the nurses and the—” She gestures vaguely at Stone. “It’s hard to sleep.”
“Sorry to inconvenience you with her near-death experience,” Stone mutters.
I shoot him a look. “Of course. Sorry about that. I keep forgetting someone is back there.”
Her mouth twitches. Almost a smile. “At least you’re not a snorer. My last roommate sounded like a chainsaw.”
“I make no promises once they take me off the painkillers.”
