Page 122 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
I smiled and sagged with relief into the bed.
“It’s kind of cute. We have matching black eyes,” he said.
My smile fell as my eyes snapped to his face. In the dimly lit room, with my swollen eyes, I had missed his injury. But now that I was looking closely, the red welt edging his right eye was obvious.
“Who hit you?”
“Dash,” he grumbled.
“Why?”
“I didn’t handle the news of your ordeal so well. Punching me in the face was his way of telling me to get my shit together.”
“Oh.” On top of the guilt I felt about our fight, now I felt horrible for putting him through this misery. “We need to talk,” I said, looking at my lap.
There was so much to be said. So much we needed to work out. What was I going to do if we couldn’t?
“Not until you’re well, Emmy.”
I looked into his eyes and begged. “Please. I can’t leave things the way we did.”
Kissing my hand, he said, “I don’t want to hash it all out while you’re sick. We need to focus on getting you better. Then we can talk. For now, let’s just be us. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said reluctantly.
We both stared at the TV for a while and my eyes started to droop not long after the nurse came in to check on me. I’d been awake for less than an hour but was exhausted.
“You should go home and get some sleep,” I said.
“I’m not leaving.”
“Why not? That chair can’t be comfortable.”
“It’s not, but I don’t care. I’m not leaving you.”
A happy feeling spread through my heart. I was elated to have Nick back. Yes, we had a lot to talk about, but for now, I was going to savor his comforting presence. I needed him close. So I took a deep breath and braced for pain.
With one strong push, I slid my body to the far edge of the bed. Pain shot through my side and I sucked in a sharp breath.
“What are you doing?” Nick said, jumping from his seat.
“Moving over.”
“Why?”
“So you can sleep with me.”
“No. Get back in the middle,” he said, reaching to pick me up.
I swatted at his hands and gave him a frown.
“Emmy,” he growled.
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t argue with me. I’m sick. I want you to get up here. I’m still cold and you can keep me warm.”
He huffed out a breath and muttered, “Fuck,” but then he started kicking off his boots.
Gently, he folded his big body next to mine, then eased an arm beneath my neck so I could rest my head in the crook of his shoulder. It wasn’t as nice as spooning, but I’d take it.
