I shoved his shoulder weakly. “I’m serious. I don’t want to find you tomorrow with cerebrospinal fluid doing a dramatic exit out of your ears.”
“Fine. Examine me,” he said, stretching back against the pillows with shameless confidence, arms behind his head, muscles flexing. “Thoroughly. I’ll sit still...for now.”
“Follow my finger,” I managed.
He obeyed, though his gaze kept dipping to my mouth with that hungry, provocative patience. His pupils reacted normally; mine reacted like someone had lit a match behind my ribs.
“Any nausea? Dizziness? Sensitivity to light?”
“Only sensitivity to you,” he said, eyes dragging over me slowly, a touch without hands. “Especially when you look at me like that.”
“I’m not looking at you like anything.”
“Liar. Your pulse is giving you away.”
“My pulse is fine,” I snapped, even though we both knew it was not.
“Want to check mine?” He grabbed my wrist and placed my fingers against the strong, thudding beat beneath his skin. “What does it mean when it spikes every time you’re near me?”
“Tachycardia,” I whispered. “Possibly a heart attack.”
“Are you sure? That pounding isn’t an arrhythmia, Lillian. It’s my heart, panicking beautifully whenever you come into view.”
“Maybe you do have brain damage,” I muttered, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected.
“Maybe” he agreed. “But my brain only malfunctions when I’m away from you, so I’m okay with that.”
I forgot to breathe for a second. “Cognitive test,” I blurted. “What’s your name?”
“The man who drives you insane.”
“Orientation intact.Unfortunately.” I cleared my throat. “What day is it?”
He didn’t even pretend to think. “Whatever day means I get to kiss you again.”
“Wrong,” I said, cheeks warm. “It’s Saturday.”
“Thatismy answer,” he said, yanking me back down. “Every day is a kiss-you-again day.”
I stifled a laugh and clicked off the light. “I guess it’s right what they say—doctors make the worst patients.”
He grinned lazily. “Admit it, you love diagnosing me.”
I flicked his forehead. “You’re still annoying, so everything must be fine. Honestly, your head’s so thick a car couldn’t even bonk that trait out of you.”
He chuckled. “Good to know my skull has protective qualities.”
“Mostly for your ego.”
His arm tightened around me. “You really care about me, don’t you, Dr. Tariq?”
I shot him my best unimpressed stare, though my heart did that traitorous flutter thing. “I care about preventing catastrophic head trauma. Don’t make it weird.”
“Too late.” His eyes found mine in the dim light, sleep-heavy but searching, like he could sense the thought I hadn’t said aloud. His brow creased, concern dancing through the haze. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I just...we never really talked about her.”
“Who?”
