Page 90 of Bone Deep
Spence nods. “Good. Close your eyes, get some sleep, and we’ll see what the doctors have to say tomorrow.”
I nod and let my eyes slide shut, then, quietly, “Spence?”
He grips my ankle, gentle but solid, on my good leg. “Yeah, Ry?”
“Will you pleasestay until I’m asleep?”
“Yeah, Ry.”
Twenty-Seven
Sleeping Satellite
Spence
I wake up slow, sluggish, like my bones are dough and my neck is concrete. There’s a faint, repetitive beeping somewhere close, and as I peel my eyes open, the room blurs, then sharpens. Hospital. Right. Ryan’s hospital room. I’m half sprawled in one of the torture devices they call chairs, spine twisted, drool probably dried on my cheek. I shift, sitting up proper, rub my eyes until the world stops being fuzzy.
When I blink the sleep away, I look over—and Ryan’s sitting up in his bed, grinning at me like the biggest idiot on the planet. His hair is sticking out in nine different directions, and his gown is half hanging off his body, his left titty just popped out for everyone to see.
I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”
His grin gets impossibly bigger. “You broke your rule, Counselor.”
I sigh, already exhausted. “What are you talking about?”
He gestures toward me, like it couldn’t be more obvious. “We had a sleepover.”
My eyes dart around the room, searching for rescue. I point at him. “We most certainly did not.”
He folds his arms and nods like a bobblehead. “We most certainly did.”
“Whatever. It doesn’t count.”
He raises his chin, grin in place. “It sooo counts.”
I stand, stretch, running a hand through my hair. My shirt rides up, cold air on my stomach. I’m still in my jeans and designer tee from the game yesterday.
When I come down from the stretch, Ryan’s eyes are locked on that slice of skin, tongue peeking out. He lifts his gaze, unashamed. “G’morning, Perfect.”
I huff, not able to help the little laugh. “Well, now you’ve seen me in the morning with my hair all fucked up. You can stop calling me perfect.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. This actually makes you more perfect.”
I throw my hands up. “You win.”
Ryan smirks. “Always do. You, not so much.” A wink.
I give him a look. “Yeah, well, I’m not used to these kinds of negotiations.”
He laughs, and I’m glad to see him in good spirits. I cross to his bed and sit on the edge beside his good leg. My hand finds his thigh under the sheet. “How you feeling? Need anything?”
His breath catches, just a little. He looks at my hand, then me. “You can stop rubbing my thigh before a nurse walks in here and sees I’ve turned this white sheet into a ghost in my lap.”
I chuckle, squeeze his thigh, and feel my own body reacting to touching all that muscle. I pull my hand away, reluctantly. “I’m going to use your bathroom and try to scrub this morning taste out with whatever toothpaste they have here. Then I’ll go get some nasty hospital coffee. What do you need?”
He stretches his arm toward the side table, making grabby hands at the remote. “Can you hand me my nurse control?”
I cross my arms, unimpressed. “Nice try. You’re not pranking the nurses with a fast food order.”
