“Much better,” he answers. “You’re just exhausted and worried. You should be getting some sleep, too.”
I snort at that. “Fat chance of that happening.”
When I sigh and turn back to sit on the couch again, he’s watching me with that all-seeing stare of his.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“Don’t you have conditioning at eight a.m.?”
I glance at Scarlett. “I’ll probably push it to the afternoon. I don’t want to leave her.”
What I don’t say is that I forgot I evenhadconditioning. It seems the more I think about her, the less I think about fighting.
Alexander’s gaze tracks to Scarlett. He hesitates, then says, “You like her.”
My chest twinges. I know what he means by that. “Yeah, I do.”
Another pause. “I can watch her if you want to get some sleep.”
I send him a grateful smile. “I appreciate that, but I’m okay. One night won’t kill me.”
He doesn’t push me the way Lucas would. He just nods, drains the rest of his beer, and stands.
“Call me if anything changes,” he says, clapping me on the back. And then he’s gone.
Checking my watch, I realize it’s almost five a.m.Fuck. I really do need to get some sleep.
Taking one last look at Scarlett, I decide Alexander was right about her looking better. She hasn’t thrown up in hours, and since the IV isn’t in anymore, there’s no need to watch her like a hawk.
I cool her forehead one more time, refill the water on her nightstand, and then I crawl into bed beside her. I don’t even care if I catch it from her, I’m staying right here with her.
Pulling Scarlett closer with an arm around her waist, I bury my face in her neck and fall into a dreamless sleep.
TWENTY-THREE
SCARLETT
I wake to the feeling of arms wrapped around me, a solid chest against my back.
I’m groggy, my thoughts swimming through mud. I’m also weak, thirsty, and my stomach is cramping. When I groan, the arm around me tightens to pull me closer.
And then I hear a startled breath and feel weight shift on the bed.
“What is it? What do you need?”
Sleepily, I blink my eyes open. It’s daytime, the bedroom bathed in light and the sounds of the city loud outside the windows.
“Nico?” I ask with a yawn.
“Yeah, baby. I’m here.”
Even the sound of his voice makes me feel better. With a content sigh, I turn onto my side and burrow into his arms.
I feel a kiss pressed to my hair and a hand brushed down my arm.
“How do you feel? Can I get you anything?”
At the repeated question, I sigh and try to focus.Why do I need to focus again? Why am I being asked questions?
