Page 98 of Rune
Alright, at some point, I must have accidentally grabbed him with my bad hand, judging by the way it was throbbing again. But it was tolerable, and it would settle.
“No,” I said, yawning.
“Tired?” he asked. “Take a nap.”
“I don’t mind the lack of windows in here, except it’s kind of disorienting, and my body keeps wanting to sleep.”
“Then you probably need the sleep,” he said, brushing some of my hair off my cheek. “How many nights were you plotting my murder instead of getting a full eight hours?”
“More than I should admit to.”
“That sleep debt is a bitch. Why not give in and get the sleep now while you can?”
“Because I haven’t done anything today.”
“That’s not true. We went for coffee, pizza, saw Junior, and nearly got gunned down at the beach. It’s been an eventful day. On top of that, you’re recovering still. And on top ofthat, I just rocked your world.”
There was no stopping the laugh that burst out of me. But I suspected that was his intention.
“I would say something about how highly you think of yourself. But you earned the cockiness.”
“And that wasn’t even my A game.”
“I’m skeptical it gets better.”
“Then you’re in for a wild ride. When you’re well again.”
“How long do you think these ribs will be bothering me?”
“Considering how you’re handling them already, I think you might luck out and only have a week, maybe two, until you feel mostly normal again. You might still have to be easy about lifting and twisting, but you probably won’t get that lightning-sharp pain anymore.”
“That’ll be nice.”
“How’s the hand? Don’t think I didn’t feel you grab me with that.”
“I didn’t even realize I was doing it until afterward. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m afraid that’s gonna be part of the package if you’re mine.”
My heart swooped at that word.
Mine.
His.
God, I wanted that more than seemed logical after so short a time.
Then again, we’d been pretty much living together. We squeezed a dozen or so dates into a few days together.
Was there maybe a bit of a trauma-bond as well? I guess you could make an argument for that. But I felt confident that it went beyond that. We weren’t harping on the things we’d endured. We were talking about our pasts, our passions, our hopes for the future. We were more than the drive-by and the people who wanted us silenced and dead.
“It’s kind of nice to have someone to worry about me,” I admitted.
“To be fair, Sof worries about you too. But because you don’t let her in, she doesn’t even know what she’s supposed to worry about. So she just worries in a general way.”
He wasn’t wrong. “It seems like I’m not the only one who has been keeping things from the people around them,” I told him pointedly.
“Touché. Maybe we make a deal.”
