She shrugged.“Do you need your pain meds?”
“No.Henderson tells me you didn’t leave my bedside for the first four days except to go get more coffee and visit the bathroom.He was afraid you were going to collapse.”
“I didn’t.”
“Emily found you sleeping on the floor next to the bed.”
“I was tired.”
“Rowan.”
“Justin.”She met his gaze squarely.“What is it you want?”
“Just to say thank you.”He picked at the blue ripcord bedspread.It was the first time she had ever seen him exhibit any nervousness.“You talked me through it.”
“You’d have gotten out.”Of course you would have.You’re Delgado.They think you can do just about anything, don’t they?Nobody ever sees the human side of you.
She pushed away the more stunning thought—that she had consciously used her talents on him, and he’d healed so quickly even she was surprised.
She’d spent hours staring at him as he slept, willing a trickle of energy into him, forcing her talent to its limits.I shouldn’t have done that.I’ve used my freak stuff on him, God alone knows what it’ll do.But it’s helping Sheila, and if I can find out how to break that awful drug, everyone will be happier.
He shrugged.His gaze was flat again.
Rowan examined his dark hair, a little longer now, and his broad shoulders under the black sweater.His black bag was propped against one side of the bed within easy reach, she’d brought him a copy of Blake’s poetry, and the only book he seemed to really read—a copy of Sun Tzu’sArt of War, a glass of water, and nothing else.
Zeke’s bedside table was already full of magazines, a crumpled pack of cigarettes—Catherine’s—bits of scratch paper, sketches, and various other minutiae.
Justin, however, had not even asked for the books until Rowan brought the Blake and announced she was going to read to him.He hadn’t demurred, but she got the idea that he didn’t really listen—he just watched her while she read.
“I want out of this bed,” he said.“I’ve got work to do.”
“Not until I’m sure you’re all right,” she said.“Dr.Jilssen?—”
“Jilssen’s an ass.”His eyebrows drew together.
Rowan couldn’t help it; she chuckled.It felt good to laugh.She hadn’t had much to smile about lately.“This is the part where I’m supposed to get afraid of you and let you do what you want?”
He actually frowned.“No.I don’t want you afraid of me.”
“Oh, good, because I’m not.You’re staying in that bed for a few more days, Justin, and that’s final.Clear?”
He mumbled something, then one corner of his mouth quirked up.“Did you just scold me?”
“I did.”She reached out again and touched his wrist.The fiery prickles racing up her arm made her shiver.“For me?Please?”
“Fine,” he said ungracefully.“For you.Don’t tell anyone.You’ll ruin my reputation.”
“Silent as the grave,” she promised, despite the chill that touched her back at the words.Then she took a deep breath, steeling herself.“Justin?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you mind that I’m still staying in your room?”Her voice came out a little funny, a little breathless, and she shifted on the hard plastic chair.
“Of course not.”He glanced around the infirmary, and Rowan was suddenly aware of other people listening.“Stay as long as you want.”
“All right.”She let go of his wrist and gained her feet without any mishap.What was it that made her heart hammer and her mouth go dry?“I’ll be back in a little while to read to you.”
“Rowan?”
