I touch my fingers to the dried blood on my face. “Are you… angry with me?” I ask.
He turns away as if he can’t stand to look at me. “I’m angry at myself. I never should’ve put you in that position. If something happened to you—”
“I’m fine. And it was my decision to try.”
He shakes his head, still avoiding my stare, but I dip my head and force our eyes to meet. “Parker. I’m fine.”
He studies me for a moment, and I offer a closed-lip smile to emphasize my point.
His shoulders drop. “Never do that again.”
“Promise.” I eye his blood-slicked hand, still gripping his oozing wound, and my throat constricts. He must be in agony, but all I can do is sit here, uselessly watching him bleed until Rose wakes. When will that be? Did I do enough to help her? Why is she still unconscious?
A beat of sweat rolls down Parker’s temple, his golden skin paler than before. “How are you?” I ask.Please let him be okay.
“Still here.” He smiles, suppressing his wince when he stands.
I crane my neck. “And Rose?” She’s curled on her side, sleeping soundlessly.
“She looks terrible because of the blood, but she’ll be alright. Thanks to you.”
I press my hand to her forehead. “Her fever’s broken.” The touch rouses her, but she slips back to sleep, her forehead smooth and full lips parted. “I’ve never seen her this peaceful. She’s normally kind of scary,” I whisper.
Parker stares at me flatly. “What are you talking about? She’s a placid dream.”
I laugh into the back of my hand, my heart swelling when he laughs with me. “I’m going to clean some of the blood off of her.”
Standing on wobbly legs, I slip into the bathroom and wash the blood from my face. When I return to the bedroom with supplies for Rose, Parker is sitting on the edge of his bed. I slip off Rose’s jeans and black, long-sleeved shirt,leaving her in a cropped tank top. The tip of a tattoo extends beneath the elastic.
Parker sits in silence as I wipe the blood from Rose’s body, but my skin tingles with awareness under his heavy stare. When I’m finished, we leave Rose to rest and move into their tiny living room. The book he asked me to keep safe remains on the dining table, his blood soaked into the leather.
“Must be important,” I say, tilting my head toward it. I pull up a chair and Parker leans against the table beside me.
“We’re hoping it holds the answers to getting my traveling back. It’s what we left for.”
“Where did you go?”
“Five years from now,” he says casually, as if it’snormalto travel to another year.
I’d meant my question literally and was expecting a place, not a year. Frankly, with all of Parker and Rose’s secrets, I’m shocked he answered at all. I can’t comprehend anyone being able to jump between one year and another, let alonefive. I trace Parker’s line of sight outside the kitchen window. “Has much changed between now and then?”
“A bit.” His mouth pulls to the side.
“Did you see me?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Parker’s eyes widen and he sits a little straighter. “No.”
My chest sinks. He and Rose have been here for six months, yet he returned to his time and didn’t see me. Was our future relationship simply an amicable one?
“Nothing memorable.”
The words still sting.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Well… we were there for such a short time, to getMcGregor’s journal, so we didn’t see anyone.” He shifts his position and flinches.
“I wish there was something I could do to help you,” I say. “If only I could touch you, I could put pressure on your wound or at least bandage it. Give you painkillers. You really need stitches.”
