as we go back out to his bed. It’s dressed in fresh sheets, the pillows fluffed and rearranged.
“Don’t blame me, darling. I can’t help it if the sight of me makes you wet.”
I’m halfway into the bed, but I turn back and clap a hand over his mouth. His dark eyes dance above my hand. “Don’t say those kinds of things,” I warn. “Don’t, Leo.”
He plucks my hand away from his lips. “You started it. For an innocent Constantine, you seem to have a great deal of trouble keeping your eyes off my—”
I kiss him again. Hard. He laughs, the sound rumbling through my throat, and I might cry again. He’s being himself. Proving that he’s really here. That he might not be out of the woods, as Carina says, but he’s headed that way. I need to send her a gift basket. A hundred of them. A handwritten apology note for shoving her.
Leo turns out the lights and gets into bed next to me. He eases himself down on his stomach. This time, he faces me. Starlight reflects off snow, shining through the windows so I can see him. One blink, and he’s reaching for me, his hand settling on my face. One thumb brushes over my cheekbone. The tips of his fingers meet wet hair.
“There. Don’t move, darling. Stay just how you are.”
I wouldn’t move for a million dollars. Two million. Infinity. “Why?”
“I want to look at you while I pass out.”
It’s part warning, part apology. Leo falls asleep in a matter of heartbeats, his hand going still on my face. His breathing stays even. His skin stays cool.
And I…
Stay awake.
I expect to pass out shortly after he does. Being fucking exhausted, it turns out, doesn’t counteract being completely wired. It’s like the rush after staying up all night for a final. My eyes burn. I can’t close them.
A book will help.
After a while I tuck Leo’s hand under his pillow and creep out of bed. I gather my phone from the bedside table—I haven’t checked it in days—and go through to his personal library by the front windows. Every muscle aches. You’d think the shower would have cured that, but no.
A smile curves across my lips. I bet Leo could cure that. I know he will, once he’s actually okay.
My special copy of Jane Eyre waits on the table by the bookshelves, still in its black box. I lift it out carefully and settle it into my lap. This treasure isn’t going to stay behind glass for the rest of its existence. I’m going to read it. This copy, my copy from Leo, will have been read by me.
Yes. This is what I need. A few minutes with an old friend.
The words on the page are so comforting and familiar that I miss the first text message.
The second.
The third.
The fourth one lights up the screen again. “It’s the middle of the night,” I tell the phone. “Who—”
My brother. That’s who. At the sight of his name on the screen, at the all-caps messages, I don’t think. I just dial. My pulse bangs at the side of my neck. I barely get Jane Eyre back into its box with my phone crushed against my shoulder.
“Hales,” Cash says, and I am out of my chair, I’m on my feet, heart surging into my throat. His voice is all wrong.
“What happened? Are you okay? No, you’re not. Tell me what happened.”
A muffled noise, something I can’t place. “I came—I came to stay with you. We came here but they won’t let us in. Will you come out and tell them? Please.”
Another knockdown burst of relief makes my legs give out. I fall into the chair. “Of course I will. Oh my god. Of course I will. I’m so glad you’re here. You’re at the gate?”
A breath of a pause. “A little outside it. They didn’t want me to block the driveway.”
“Okay. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Just stay where you are. Tell them I’m coming.”
I hang up with Cash. The hush of Leo’s house presses in. After all the intensity of keeping him alive, calm has settled. Carina went back to her guest rooms. Eva is no doubt passed out down the hall. And Leo—
Leo sleeps in his bed, the covers pulled up to his waist. Every deep breath puts the world back where it belongs. By morning, everything will be whole again, and right.
I lean down and kiss his cheek. “I’ll be right back.” And then,