Page 99 of Played By Design

His fingers stir, ghosting across the rough hospital blanket, and his forehead creases.

I straighten. “Kain?”

His eyelids lift, and this time, he finds me immediately. “Bunny.”

I reach for his hand but stop, unsure. Fifteen hours ago, I would have taken it without thinking, but now my hand hangs between us before it drops back to my side.

Kain frowns. “Reef?”

“Do you need anything?” I ask.

“Water,” he rasps.

That I can do.

He grimaces when he tries to sit up, so I pour some water from the plastic pitcher into his cup and hold the straw for him. He sips, his throat working, then settles back on the pillow.

I set the cup aside. “How do you feel?”

He grimaces. “Like shit.”

“That isn’t specific enough to be useful.”

His eyelids fall shut again. “Head and ribs hurt.”

Unsurprising, but I still hate hearing that he’s in pain.

A nurse comes in not long after, checks his vitals, asks him his name, the date, and whether he knows where he is.

Kain answers everything, though annoyance clips each response.

She disconnects the leads monitoring his heart, peeling the adhesive pads from his chest one by one, then turns to the IV in his arm. “Little pinch.”

Kain doesn’t even twitch as she pulls the catheter free.

She holds gauze over the spot and tapes it down. “Leave that on for a while. Your doctor should be through soon to do the final evaluation.”

When she leaves, Kain rubs the place where the IV had been. “Did you bring me clothes?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He shoves the blanket down and pushes himself upright.

His complexion pales.

I’m out of the chair before I think about it, one hand catching his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

He fumbles with the latch on the bed railing, and it drops. “Getting dressed.”

I try to raise it again. “You need to wait for the doctor.”

“I need to wait for the doctor before I can leave.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t need to wait for her to put on pants.”

I fling myself in front of him, arms spread wide. “Kain.”

His brow lowers. “Bunny.”

My hands hover in the air, not touching him. “You were mugged last night and have been unconscious ever since. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”