She jerks her chin at me. “Are you even supposed to be on your feet?”
“What the fuck do you care?” I snap. The physical pain is a nuisance, but it’s the emotional one threatening to overpower me.
I’ve built a house of cards, and a slight breeze was enough to destroy it. Riddled with holes, strength leaks out of me, leaving only weakness behind. I palm the wall, thinking I should take pain medication, but I am too stubborn to listen to my doctor.
The pain anchors me, reminding me I am alive. I deserve it, as I’ve hurt the only woman I’ve loved.
She approaches me and lifts my shirt, murmuring, “I wouldn’t have unplugged you.”
“Why?” I ask, caught in her spell.
“If I’m trapped in limbo, so are you.”
She slowly pulls at my bandage and glares at me as if I am at fault for causing the stitches to undo. “Call the doctor.”
“No.”
“You need to be stitched back up,” she huffs, annoyance ringing loud in her tone.
I shrug. “You’re here.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
I lower my face to hers, my breathing ragged. “Well, Zara, I don’t fucking care about dying if I don’t have you in my life.”
She clutches my shirt, the fight dimming in her gaze. “Stop saying shit like that.” She shoves me into the bedroom. “This is not a peace offering. I don’t want to deal with a corpse while on lockdown.”
“Sure.”
“Is anyone else privy to the code?”
My cousin. I am not a fucking imbecile willing to risk something happening to her if I am unable to open it.
“What do you think?” I smirk, deliberately letting her believe I am the only one.
Pushing me onto my back on the bed, she goes to the bathroom, rummaging through the cabinets. A few moments later, she returns with a medical sewing kit, some pads, and disinfectant, placing them by my side.
When she kneels beside me, my cock tents my pants, and she glares at me.
I wiggle my brows and lock my arms behind my neck, at ease for someone as fucked up as me. “Not my fault.”
“No, you’re a fucking saint, and somehow my simple presence tempts you,” she mumbles, tending to my wound with utter care.
“You’ve tempted the devil. He has no qualms about indulging, and that is worse because he enjoys it.”
She rolls her eyes at me and carefully plucks the shredded stitches out one by one with tweezers, which is enough to make me believe she doesn’t want to cause me harm.
“What took you so long?”
She pulls the next one with no finesse.
“Ouch,” I say, pretending it hurts just to add some levity and break this suffocating tension.
She shoots me an earnest look. “Keep quiet and stop behaving like a damn child. I know your endurance.”
“I thought it would make you treat me more gently.”
She offers me the fakest sweet smile. “With gloves around your throat, I can be gentle.”
