“Rest,”he orders.
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” I mutter.
He rolls his eyes and hands me the mug. “Drink this.”
“What is it?” I ask suspiciously.
“Soup. Now drink it.”
“Why are you being so bossy?” I grouse.
“Because you’re sick and being stubborn, and you need something in your stomach so you can take some more medicine.”
“Do I need to remind you that it’s just a cold?” But I take a sip from the mug.
I do it expecting it to be bland and tasteless.
But instead…
Yum.
I take another sip.
“Good,” he praises.
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t push it.”
One half of his mouth curves. “You feel up to taking some medicine?”
If it means it cuts through this awful fucking headache. Then yes.
I accept the pills he hands me, swallow them down painfully.
“Good,” he says again.
Then chuckles when I glare a second time.
I expect him to leave, like he’s been doing all day—zipping in and popping out. But this time he perches on the edge of the mattress and fusses with my blankets. “About last night.”
My stomach clenches.
God, please don’t bring up my?—
“I need you to know I’m not mad about Chloe calling me.” My blast of relief is chased by guilt. He settles his hand over mine, squeezes lightly. “I didn’t bring it up to make you feel bad. I just want you to know I understand. And it all worked out okay.”
“Except Chloe was wandering in the middle of the night and?—”
“I told you, Stitch. It’s not her first nighttime adventure.”
I’m frowning atStitch, confusion rippling through me as he goes on.
“The cameras and locks did their jobs?—”
“But she could have been hurt,” I whisper. “And it would have been my fault and?—”
“It could have just as easily happened on my watch.” His fingers squeeze mine again. “I promise I’m not mad, and I’m not disappointed. Everything’s fine. Chloe’s fine. You’re fine.I’mfine. Yeah?”
Except that I asked him to kiss me.
