“What do you remember?”
“Tired. Later?”
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I’ve been pushing. I’ll just leave you to rest.”
“Stay?”
“You want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
“All right, I’ll be right here.” She settled back into whatever chair she had been in before I woke.
“Up here.”
“What?”
“On bed.”
“You want me on the bed?” If I didn’t love her so damn much, this conversation would have had me plotting to kill her.
“Yes.”
“But… I’ll hurt you.”
“Don’ care.”
“But…”
“Cee, on bed,” I snapped. It seemed to do the trick because she slid beside me, tentatively curling on her side. She was unbelievably careful not to injure me, resting a hand on top of my heart. The one I knew was still beating because each one corresponded with a throb in my head.
Her soft breath brushed over my neck in even pants as she traced designs over my heart. That was how I fell back to sleep.
It wasdark when I woke again, and my head felt less like cotton. I was warm and surrounded by the soft scent of Celine, still pressed against me.
An inconvenient urgency woke me. The minutes stretched, achingly slow. Loath as I was to wake her, it was no longer an option.
All it took was the shift of my shoulder and she darted awake, hovering above me. I could still only see out of the one eye, and I was afraid to ask after the other.
Even so, she was lovelier than ever. Golden curls curtained us and worried green eyes searched my face.
“’Lo.”
“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“Bit better. Need to get up.”
“What do you need? I can get it.”
“Need to use the pot. Gonna do that for me?”
“I can… assist. If you need it?”
“Lord, no. A bit of dignity.”
“Should I fetch Kit?”
“’S’at where we’re at?”
