if he isn’t sleeping hard.
His eyes stay closed, but he shifts his shoulders, the tiny movement just enough to send the sheet over his torso sliding down more. I peruse his pretty throat, his collarbone, and…shit. The sheet falls lower still, and I can see his hand against his chest. The IV tubes—which disappear into his chest—are threaded through his fingers, and his palm is pressed above his pec, as if he’s holding himself together.
I tip my forehead toward the chair and sit there with my head bowed, hot tears dripping out my eyes.
I’m in a knot. I want to scream.
My palm trembles over his arm. I lean a little closer, till our faces are so close I feel his breath on my cheek.
Cleo is here. I might be dreaming, but... I think I’m not.
I smell her tea perfume. I hear her voice is in the air. I try to. I perceive it as something soft... not just sharp.
I have a fever. I can’t think because... the IV. If she’s here, then she can see me. I float up from where I’ve been and I can hear the beeps of the pulse ox machine.
Pain flashes all around me—I’m waking up. My face, my shoulder, ribs... My hips and back...
I feel Cleo’s hand. I twitch, and I can feel the IV tubing tug. My chest is sore...
Regret and shame.
I don’t want this.
She knows.
I can feel her fingers in my hair. Her fingers... being nice. Making me tired. But if I fall asleep, I’ll miss her. I peek and... fuck. Cleo—right here. Her pretty eyes. Her pretty mouth.
I can see her see me, because her face goes soft and sad. She says, “Sweetheart.” Her fingers dance across my brow.
“You’re sleepy, huh? You’ve got the good drugs going. That’s good.” She strokes my temple. I moan, in bliss, inside.
“I wanted to tell you, Kellan... I figured out about the letters. And R. I wanted to say... I understand. It’s crazy... like, a big surprise. But I’m not upset with you or anything.” Her fingers... sifting through my hair. “I talked to Manning just a little. It’s amazing, what you guys are doing. You’re amazing. I came to visit, but—” Her fingers dance like fog over my skin. I feel her face come up against mine, feel the warm rub of her cheek, and I’m surprised that she would... get so close. “I’m really here because... I think I’d like to stay with you. Like... for a while.”
I must be dreaming.
I think Cleo’s crying, even as her soft hands stroke my hair. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t know. About all this, and R. I’m sorry I’m crying. I’ll be fine. I’m just...”
I shut my eyes. I try not to feel her hands, so I won’t feel them when she goes.
I float a little. All the Dilaudid. I try to stay, though. To stay near her. I
But I keep my eyes closed. I don’t want to look at her. To see... her look at me.
“Can you look at me, baby? I just want to see your eyes.” Her voice cracks. “If I can help you over to the bed... I want to lie down with you. You seem sort of uncomfortable in the chair.”
My eyes drift open, but a moment I see her, close, but blurry—then they sink back shut... because the Dilaudid. I would like to have her touch me, but... I’m dirty. Sweaty. Messed up. Just the last few days... have gotten bad. With pain.
She strokes my cheek, and my throat aches.
“I can help you get to the bed, or even call a nurse if you want. If you don’t want to snuggle, I’ll just leave you alone. Your shoulder, the left one... is it hurting? You keep moving it.”
I do?
She kisses my hair. It feels good.
I sit up, gritting my teeth against the pain of my ribs. I forget to hold the IV lines. They pull from where they’re threaded into my chest. Did she see that?
I curl over my lap, holding my head. My heart races. Cleo should go.
“You... need to go.” My eyes roll toward her, the words slurring.
I reach back for the IV pole, and brace against it as I push the chair down with my legs and stand. I shuffle as quickly as I can to the bed, but the rail is up. I have to move a lot to lay down. Moaning...
I feel the cold linen under my fever-warm body and curl up, shivering. I put