the… magic everywhere.”
“I don’t even remember. Did I hurt anybody?” The question comes out small and frightened. God, how could I ever forgive myself if I hurt one of these men while I was unconscious?
“You didn’t,” Ridge says firmly. “We were careful.”
I let out a sigh of relief and nod. At least there’s some good news to come out of this. I shove the covers away, glad to see the smudges have disappeared without fully forming into marks on my skin, and swing my legs over the side of the bed. When I stand, a rush of lightheadedness makes me sway. Archer leaps forward, wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me.
“I’ll help her get dressed,” he tells Ridge. “If you want to go get food and coffee ready.”
Trystan bares his teeth and looks ready to argue, but Ridge grabs his shoulder and shoves him toward the door. “Yeah. Sounds good. Let us know if you need anything.”
After they’re gone, Archer points to the bed, keeping one arm wrapped around me. “Here, sit. I’ll get some clean clothes so I can help you change.”
I shake my head and latch on to his arm. “No, I think I’d like to shower first, if that’s okay. I feel gross after…” I wave vaguely at the bed, indicating the fact that I’ve lain there for three days, sweating like a pig through my transformation. I feel so gross, I’m worried he can smell me.
Luckily, Archer doesn’t need me to put that concern into words. With a nod, he secures his arm around my waist and walks me to the bathroom, moving slow so that I don’t keel over.
My legs are weak from being in bed for days, and the tingling in my feet makes it feel like I’m walking on pins. Archer takes as much of my weight as he can without physically lifting me off my feet, and I lean against him gratefully. I don’t know how he seems to anticipate my needs the way he does. He has a deep sense of empathy and compassion, but the way he reads me goes beyond even that sometimes. It’s like he can peer directly into my brain.
In the small, narrow bathroom, Archer deposits me on the toilet seat and then turns on the water to let it get warm. While he works on the water temperature, I slide my arms out of my t-shirt, fumbling with the effort. My limbs aren’t quite up to speed yet on the whole “being awake” thing. I finally give up and bend forward, sliding my hands through the neck of the shirt so I can rest my aching head in my palms.
“Too much, too soon?” Archer asks gently.
I lift my head to find it’s even heavier than before. “I got into an argument with the shirt.”
“I’ll fix it.” There’s a soft smile in his words, and just the sound of his voice soothes me on a soul-deep level.
The hiss of the shower provides background noise as he helps me out of my dirty clothes. My t-shirt and shorts are both damp with perspiration and smell horrendous. I’m too exhausted to be embarrassed, even when he peels my sweaty underwear down my thighs. Not a damn thing about this is sexy, and there’s nothing I can do about it. My body just went through a battle, and I have a feeling I’m lucky to be alive.
When I’m fully undressed, Archer straightens and holds out both hands, his gaze on my face as if studiously avoiding my naked body. “Up. I’ll help you in.”
I take his hands and let him haul me to my feet, but I stumble over the pins and needles still working themselves out in my legs. He catches me in his arms with a small laugh. “Whoa, there.”
Burying my face in his t-shirt, I take a shaky breath. Fuck, I hate feeling this helpless. “I don’t think I can do this on my own,” I admit quietly. “I feel really weak.”
“What if I get in with you?” He pulls back just enough to look down at me, concern in his gaze. “Are you all right with that?”
I nod, gratitude rushing up in my chest. “Yes. Thank you. That would be good.”
But as he strips off his clothes, I wonder what the hell I was thinking. I mean, I guess my mind was on the night that Ridge stepped into the shower with me to help me through a panic attack. He kept his clothes