“So, doc, what’s the verdict?”
I didn’t like Sam’s expression. It was as much of a frown as he’d express in front of his patient. “Your brain bleed has stopped, and although the swelling has gone down, you’re still healing.”
My brow furrowed. “Can’t you fix that?”
“When it comes to the brain, a Virtue’s power has a fifty-fifty chance of healing him or exacerbating his condition and sending him back into a coma. Do either of you want to take that risk?”
“No,” I said as Oliver replied, “Kind of.”
I shot him a glare. “So what happens now?” I directed at Sam.
“He stays here, eats, rests, and we monitor. If and when the swelling decreases to optimal levels, I’ll clear him. But until then, he’d better make himself at home.”
“Do you want to make a home with me?” Oliver winked.
“Any other questions?” Sam asked.
One sat on the tip of my tongue, but not about Oliver. Sam would tell me if I needed to be worried about my father, right? He’d tell me if he was infected. Or maybe not. He was professional. Maybe this wasn’t the time. Did I even want to know?
Yes. Or I’d go crazy.
“How’s my father?” I finally forced out.
Sam wrinkled his nose. “Health-wise, he appeared fine the last time I saw him.”
Some of the tightness in my chest loosened. “Okay, good.”
Sam frowned, opening his mouth.
“Lucy. Lucy,” Oliver interrupted, patting his body and pinching himself. “Did I die? Please tell me I didn’t die.”
“Why would you think…” I trailed off as I turned my head and found Alexei standing behind Sam—in leggings.
White spandex stretched across his muscular thighs and calves to the point that his golden skin peeked through the fabric, and I questioned if they’d rip. My cheeks heated at the prominent bulge outlined beneath the fabric. He was… large. Someone cleared their throat, and my flush spread as my gaze shot up to his matching shirt. It hugged his pecs and abs, while the sleeves looked as if they were painfully squeezing his biceps.
Alexei stepped further into the room with a smug smile, showing off his bandaged wings that had Oliver’s name written all over them in black, bold letters.
He looked like a muscular piece of candy, and it made sense why so many females and males fawned at his feet.
Sam shook his head, his eyes flicking to the painted ceiling. “I work on children,” he grumbled before leaving.
Alexei tipped his head to Sam as he left, then smirked at me. “Can’t take your eyes off me, can you, beautiful?” He lifted his chin toward Oliver with a knowing twinkle in his blue eyes. “Except this wasn’t for you.”
“Uhh,” Oliver grunted in a strangled, speechless way.
“How did you know he was awake?”
“Ronen sensed it.”
Right. I supposed it didn’t take a genius to figure out why I’d be happy.
“Okay, so I’m not dead. I’m just living my fantasy dream right now. And not to sound ungrateful or anything, but why am I living it?” Oliver asked.
“Alexei and I made a deal of sorts,” I explained, and Alexei took it further than I’d ever expected.
He nodded, his attention darting from Alexei’s spandexed abs to the bulge I worked hard not to peek at. “I think I need to get hurt more often.”
I snatched a lemon bar from the floor and chucked it at him. Oliver glanced down at the yellow curd on his blanket, then back at Alexei. “Lucy, I’m gonna need you to lift his shirt and smear a lemon bar across his abs so I can lick it, please.”
