Page 45 of The Ashes of Summer

"You said there was something you could give him."

Understanding flickers across her face almost immediately.

"Jacob..."

"Give it to him."

She lets out a slow breath, the kind doctors use when they're trying not to tell you you're being unreasonable. "The only medication I can give him will reverse the Midazolam. It'll take away one layer of sedation, but it won't undo the brain injury. He could still take hours to wake properly, and when he does..." She hesitates, weighing her next words. "It won't be pleasant."

"I didn't ask if it'd be pleasant."

Her jaw tightens."You don't understand. If I reverse it, he isn't going to wake up calm. He's likely to come up frightened, combative and completely disorientated."

A humorless grin tugs at the corner of my mouth.

"Sounds like we're finally getting somewhere."

She rolls her eyes, but there's no amusement behind it. Just resignation. She knows me well enough by now to understand I'm not walking out of this room, and she knows there's not a fucking chance I'm waiting around while the one man who might have answers sleeps through another day.

"Jacob..." She reaches out, resting a hand against my forearm. "Don't do anything stupid."

I look down at her hand before meeting her eyes again.

"I'm way past stupid."

Neither of us says anything.

She searches my face, probably looking for the sheriff. The man who follows procedures. The one who writes reports and stands in court and wears a badge because the law matters.

He's still there. He's just losing the fight to the man who wants Summer back.

Eventually, she lets out a quiet sigh and drops her hand.

"I'll get the medication."

The door clicks shut behind her—the room feels different the second she's gone.

Not quieter. The machines are still humming. The monitor is still counting every time his heart beats. Somewhere outside, a cart rattles down the corridor. But the room isn't hers anymore.

It's mine.

I pull the chair closer to the bed and sit, leaning forward until my forearms rest on my knees, never taking my eyes off his face.

"You've caused me a lot of fucking problems," I murmur.

"You'd better wake up..."

I lean in a little closer.

"...but if you lie to me when you do, I promise the coma's going to be the nicest part of your week."

Chapter 14

Smoke Usually Comes From Somewhere

Jacob

Imove to the side of the bed until I'm close enough to study every line of his face, searching for something that tells me he's closer to the surface than the monitors want me to believe. My hand comes up almost absently, my knuckles settling against the center of his sternum before I lean my weight into them.