Devoured - Cathryn Fox Page 0,41

whatever this is, it’s not good.”

Concerned eyes rake over my face. “Do you want me to call a doctor?”

“I haven’t had a chance to find one here yet.”

“I could take you to Emergency, or I could call my sister Maria,” he says. “Her husband is an emergency room doctor. He might be able to diagnose you over the phone.”

“Then they’d know you were here.”

“I think your health is more important than that, Peyton.” He lightly brushes his hand over my forehead, and it feels good. “I can deal with their interfering if it means helping you.”

“Keep doing that,” I say as his hand soothes me. “The warmth of your hand feels good.” He disappears for a second, coming back with a damp cloth. He lightly presses it to my flesh and it instantly makes me feel better. “That’s good.” I sigh. “Don’t call anyone, though. I think it’s just something I ate.”

“I’m not sure, Peyton. We ate the same things and I’m fine.”

“I’m sure it’s just a bug. Promise me you won’t call.” I don’t want to bring the wrath of his family down on him, and he’s spilled enough lies for me already. I’m not about to put him in a position where he has to lie to his family, too.

He dabs my head a few more times, sets the cloth down and fixes the blanket around me when an almost violent cold shiver moves through me. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” I don’t miss the reluctance in his voice, but I don’t think I need to go so far as to seek medical help.

“Roman.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for helping me,” I say. Honestly, I’m so not used to counting on anyone, and he has gone above and beyond in so many ways. He’s so kind, and so giving, and honestly that’s just going to mess me up more when we go back to a clean slate. “I wish it wasn’t you, though. I wish it wasn’t you here with me,” I murmur.

His shoulders tighten, and the wounded look on his face hurts my heart. “Why would you say that? I thought we’d become friends.”

I pick up a pillow and put it over my face. “It’s not that. We are friends, it’s just... It’s so embarrassing for you to see me like this,” I say, my voice muffled. He takes the pillow away and sets it beside me, and the understanding and compassion in his eyes eases the mortification inside me.

“Don’t be,” he says softly. “I had older sisters, remember? They embarrassed me all the time. Someday I’ll tell you about all the terrible things they did to their baby brother.”

“Tell me now,” I say, wanting him to stay longer. I like his calm, steady presence. I like...him.

His mouth twists like he’s in pain, and I shouldn’t laugh but he looks so adorable right now. “Fine, remember I told you how much they liked to be in the kitchen.”

“I do,” I say, and snuggle closer to him, to bask in his strength and intimate familiarity. My lids fall shut, and I relax to the sound of his deep voice.

He laughs and the rumble soothes me. “This is really horrible but when I was around five, my sister Lucy, who is a year older than me, had this Easy-Bake Oven. She made a chocolate brownie but didn’t have any icing sugar. She made up this weird concoction of yogurt and regular sugar, and I think she put some mud in there for color.” I open one eye and chuckle when he scrunches up his nose. “Of course, she talked me into trying it first. It was pretty bad.”

“Oh, how horrible.” I take in the small smile touching the corner of his mouth. “You’re smiling.”

He scrubs his face. “Yeah. I guess I miss Lucy. We were the closest. We did everything together.”

“Like Cason and I did.”

“If I ever had kids, I’d want a dozen so they could all have one another. I complain, but goddammit, Peyton. They do mean the world to me.”

As he shares something very touching, very private with me, my heart thumps a bit faster. “I thought you didn’t want children.”

“I don’t.” He blinks a couple times, like he’s trying to get his head on straight. “Isn’t that what I said?”

“It’s something you said before. Not what you just said.”

“Oh, it’s what I meant to say.” He picks the cloth back up and dabs my forehead. “Just for the record, Peyton, you’d be an amazing mother.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The

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