I want to open my eyes and ask him for a hug, but I’m so tired my bones feel heavy.
“She wants cuddles and foot massages and those extra-tight burrito blankets when she isn’t feeling well,” Spike continues. “She’s a needy woman.”
“Well,” Tank says without hesitation, “I’m a hungry man. I’ll take anything she’s willing to give. Even if it’s only because she’s not feeling well.”
My fever does not need that sentence.
“You say that now,” Spike laughs. “I’ll clear your schedule for the next few days unless something major pops up. I’ll have a prospect grab soft foods and broth. She hates broth and will fight you tooth and nail to avoid drinking it.”
“She can fight all she wants,” Tank replies. “If it’s the only thing her throat can handle, she’s drinking it.”
I want to inform them that I’m a grown woman, and if I don’t want the broth, I willnotbe drinking the broth.
But Tank fussing over me?
Tank claiming space beside me like it’s his right?
My traitorous heart is doing gymnastics.
“I hate you both,” I lie.
“Mm-hmm,” Spike hums. “Sure you do.”
He moves closer, and I feel the couch dip as he sits on the edge.
“I’ll sit with her while you change,” Spike tells Tank.
“Five minutes,” Tank repeats.
“She’ll be fine until you get back,” Spike mutters. “Go.”
There’s a brief shuffle of boots, then the door opens and closes.
Silence settles for a moment.
Spike’s hand brushes my hair back from my face like he used to when I was little.
“You scare him,” he says quietly.
“It’s just a cold, Bubby,” I mumble.
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” he says softly. “He’s so damn terrified you’re not going to forgive him enough to give him another chance.”
My eyes crack open.
“He told you that?” My voice is close to extinction at this point.
“He didn’t have to, baby sister,” he sighs. “That man is so in love with you he can’t breathe knowing you hate him.”
“I don’t hate him,” I say, glaring at him through watery eyes. “I was hurt. I waited for years for him to want me back. I waited so long that I stopped living for me and started living inwhatever way I thought he might like. The way that might grab his attention.”
Spike’s expression softens.
“Oh, silly sister,” he murmurs. “You had that man’s attention the first day he saw you. He was just too stubborn to admit he deserved something as beautiful and pure as you.”
“Not pure anymore,” I mutter.
Spike’s hand stills in my hair.
