“Thank you,” she says again. “How long have I been here?” The momentary peace disappears from her face, her forehead marred with lines.
“Too fucking long.” I sigh, but she attempts to sit up, so I add, “A few hours.”
“I need to leave now.” She tries to turn to swing her legs over the edge, but stops. Eyeing the drip, she bites her lip.
“Okay, woman, what’s the problem? You were half-dead an hour ago. Let them treat you, so you can regain your strength.”
“I can’t stay here, Xander.” She whispers, despite us being alone in a private room.
“What are you talking about?”
Is she still running a fever? Did she hit her headwhen she fell?
“Why would you get me a private room?” She sags into the pillows, covering her eyes with her free arm.
I open my mouth, but I realize I don’t have an answer to that. I called Corm on the way here because his mother is on the board, and this is what followed.
I look around. “It’s the best they have.”
“I can’t afford it,” she whisper-snaps at me, glancing at the door as if someone were eavesdropping.
Shit. I sit on the edge beside her. “It’s a good thing I’m paying for it then.”
“I’m not accepting your charity,” she says, like she had options here.
“It’s my birthday gift redo.” I wink.
She glares at me. “This is not much better.”
“But at least it’s something you need.”
Her eyes pierce through me, first with fierce disdain and then with something akin to resignation. “Thank you.”
Good girl.
“Stop thanking me.”
It may be just the drugs and her fatigue, but I can almost see how the tension from her shoulders leaves. Like she’s finally accepted the reality and decided to let go of her independence for a moment.
For some reason, it makes me feel like I won some sort of prize. Like I tamed her stubborn streak orsomething. It’s fucked-up and intoxicating. I’ve never cared for anyone. I never needed or wanted to.
And it’s not even about helping her, which is strangely rewarding, and it slightly lessens the latent panic from earlier when she was lifeless in my arms.
It’s about her surrender. About her letting me help her that makes me feel like I conquered Mt. Everest.
Our eyes locked, I wipe sweaty hair from her forehead, letting my fingers linger near her warm face. Even pale and congested, she is breathtaking.
She parts her lips, wetting them with her tongue. I want to lean down and take that taunting mouth.
Fuck the germs.
If I could, I would take the sickness from her. But I don’t think she would appreciate my mauling her while she can barely breathe.
Cora puts her hand over mine and inhales to say something.
“I see you’re up, Ms. Winslow.” A nurse walks in, and I jump away as if she caught me stealing.
She did, kind of. I was trying to steal a moment with this woman who stole my attention, and refuses to let go.
