“Like I was trampled by a herd of something large and unfriendly.” She caught his hand before he could pull away. “But alive. Thanks to you.”
“You’re stronger than you know. Your body did most of the work.”
“My body had help.” Her thumb traced circles on his palm. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re terrible at accepting gratitude?”
“Once or twice.”
“I’m going to keep trying until you learn.”
Before he could respond, a small tornado burst through the doorway.
“You’re awake!” Dani launched herself onto the bed, barely avoiding Jessa’s injured leg, and threw her arms around her sister’s neck. “You’re awake and you’re okay and I was so scared, Jessa, I thought you were going to die like Mama and I couldn’t… I didn’t know what I’d do if?—”
“Shh.” Jessa gathered her sister close, stroking her tangled hair. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”
Dani clung to her for a long moment, shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. He started to withdraw, to give them privacy, but Dani’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.
“You too,” she said fiercely. “You stay too.”
So he stayed.
The rest of the day passed in a strange new rhythm—slower and softer, centered around the bedroom where Jessa was confined to rest.
Dani appointed herself head of recovery operations with a solemnity that might have been amusing if it weren’t so deeply touching. She ordered Tarek to adjust Jessa’s pillows no fewer than six times, each adjustment apparently critical to hersister’s comfort. She demanded tea be prepared to her exact specifications: not too hot, not too sweet, steeped for precisely the right amount of time.
“More honey,” she instructed, peering into the cup he’d brought. “She likes more honey when she’s sick.”
“She’s not sick. She was poisoned.”
“Same thing. More honey.”
He added more honey.
“And the blue cup, not the brown one. The blue one is her favorite.”
He fetched the blue cup.
“And could you?—”
“Dani.” Jessa’s voice held exasperated fondness. “Let the poor male rest. He’s been running around after us for days.”
“He doesn’t mind.” Dani fixed him with a challenging stare. “Do you?”
He looked at the small human child who had somehow appointed herself his commanding officer, then at the woman in the bed who held his heart in her capable hands.
“No,” he said honestly. “I don’t mind.”
Dani nodded with satisfaction. “See? He doesn’t mind. Now, the pillows need adjusting again.”
He adjusted the pillows.
Later, he prepared a light meal—broth and soft bread, easy on a stomach recovering from days of fever. Dani supervised thisprocess as well, offering suggestions and criticism with equal enthusiasm.
“She doesn’t like the crusts cut off,” he protested.
“She’s my sister and I know what she likes. Cut off the crusts.”
He cut off the crusts.
