“Tired.”
“Let me help you get into bed.”
“Only if you rest with me.”
Eleanor turned down the bed, and after taking off Wes’s shoes, she removed her own and slid beside him. “I have you.” She wasn’t sure if she said it to reassure him or herself.
* * *
Wes opened his eyes and saw a shadow by the window. “Curly?”
“Hi, did I wake you?” She turned.
The waning afternoon sun highlighted her face. “No. It felt good to sleep in my own bed.”
“I bet it did.” She wrapped her arms around herself.
“What were you looking at?” He watched her carefully.
“The trainers are walking the puppies.” She walked over to him and sat beside him.
“You realize they are about fifteen months old,” he chuckled.
“They’re all fluffy and cute.” She sat beside him.
“Like you.” He pulled her down and nuzzled her hair.
Eleanor sat up. “Are you hungry?”
“I am.” With some exertion, he sat up too.
“You okay?” she worried.
“Yeah. Not dizzy today. Let’s go see what those piglets did to my food stores.”
Downstairs was empty. A note in Kip’s handwriting advised that the group, including Wes’s parents, were eating with the new group of veterans. “Wow, I forgot. The second group started. How are they doing?”
“The program is working. And I heard Jeff Pruet was discharged to a program in his hometown. His treatment team said he’s making huge strides.”
He closed his eyes and opened them. “That is all you.” He rifled through the refrigerator and laughed. A note attached to the vegetable drawer said,Asshat, apologize to Kip and me. Do you think we’d leave Mr. Chef without food? T.
Eleanor looked over at the note and laughed too. “Gwen told me the first two days he didn’t leave your side. Mr. Chase had to order him to get rest.”
“And he listened to Kieran?” Wes pulled out a zucchini and some tomatoes.
“Not Kieran. Ian Chase. Gwen said Ian didn’t leave the hospital until you woke up. Are you able to tell me what happened?” She hugged him.
Wes looked down. “Help me cook, and then we can talk.” His head hurt, not from the healing hole the neurosurgeon drilled, but from the truth he had to make Eleanor confront. He asked his colleagues to keep her in the dark until he grew stronger.
After their dinner, Eleanor carried two mugs of tea into the living room area of Wes’s suite. He leaned over and started a fire. His head felt like it was filled with cement, and his legs tremored beneath him.
The doctors promised he would grow stronger with time, but they were stunned his memory was intact. How could he forget that the last thing he remembered was firing a shot at Belinda West?
Wes waited for Eleanor to choose her seat. He sat beside her and pulled out his phone. “I’m going to record our conversation.”
“Things must still be foggy, huh?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Curly, you were so sick. First, you almost bled to death. Then you contracted the measles. I never had the chance to tell you I decided to fight for you. And you never told me what you decided.” He grasped her hands.
