He chuckles. “Plenty.”
“But plenty you can,” I reply.
His gaze darkens briefly — heat flickering there — and the timing of it irritates me, because my body notices even when my head isn’t ready to.
“So,” Mark says, breaking the moment, “the plan is to keep you here until you feel better.”
Alex nods. “Doctor Pierce’s orders.”
“Is that right?” I ask lightly.
"He's a worrier," Mark adds.
Derek exhales. “I am not a worrier.”
“You hovered,” Alex says. “Aggressively.”
I snort.
Derek shakes his head, but he doesn’t deny it.
“I think I need to lie down for a bit,” I admit. “My head’s starting to pound again.”
“Of course,” Derek says immediately. No hesitation.
He doesn’t touch me unless I wobble — and even then, it’s careful. Controlled.
As I head down the hall, I hear Alex whisper, “He hovered.”
“I did not,” Derek mutters.
I smile faintly.
It turns out hovering feels different when it comes from someone who never actually leaves.
I excuse myself to use the restroom.
The bathroom is cool and quiet, the light gentler than I expect. I wash my hands longer than necessary, steadying myself as the last of the adrenaline drains away. My reflection looks… better. Still pale. Still tired. But no longer lost.
That feels like progress.
When I step back into the hallway, the house feels calmer now—less overwhelming. While I enjoy Mark and Alex, it was getting to be too much.
I notice clean lines. Neutral walls. Art chosen carefully but without flash. Derek Pierce lives here, but the space doesn’t shout it. It hums instead.
I move toward the living room, the robe brushing my calves, the shirt soft against my skin.
The sofa is enormous.
Deep. Plush. The kind of couch that invites surrender.
I sink into it with a slow exhale, my body melting into the cushions like it’s been waiting for permission to stop holding itself together. My head tips back. My eyes close.
For a few seconds, I just breathe.
The house is quiet except for muted sounds from the kitchen—movement, water running, the soft clink of dishes. Normal sounds. Safe sounds.
The TV clicks on gently. Something soothing. Nature. Water. Wind.
