There’s a light knock at the door, and then it swings open a moment later.
I turn to look over my shoulder at the same time the person steps into the room, and I swear all the air evaporates from my lungs.
Because standing in the doorway with a tray of coffee is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I have no fucking clue how I’m supposed to keep my hands off her.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHLOE
NOW
Sleep finally finds me, and I’m treated to the most dreamless night I can remember.
Usually I’m tossing and turning, memories turning to nightmares as my past plays on loop while my body rests.
But not tonight. Tonight I’m too exhausted to do anything other than sleep, and when I wake up to amber eyes staring at me, I’m almost startled by how rested I feel.
“Are you watching me sleep?” I yawn.
“Yes.”
“You know that’s kind of creepy, right?”
“Yep.”
“So why are you doing it?”
He smirks. “How could I possibly look anywhere else when you’re in the room?”
My lips part in surprise, because that was one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me, even if he was watching me sleep like a weirdo.
Suddenly all too aware of my bedhead and morning breath, I roll to the edge of the bed and allow my body a second to wake up before standing.
One of the more unfortunate symptoms I experience is dizziness if I get up too quickly, and I don’t want to faint in front of Ryker after he said something so sweet.
“You okay, Siren?”
“Yeah, just need a minute.”
We’ve never spoken about it, but I know he’s noticed some of the things I do to mitigate my symptoms, and I’m grateful he doesn’t ask any other questions right now.
Because today is going to be hard enough without diving into the complexity of severe endometriosis.
The disease that’s plagued me since I was a teenager, and that has likely taken my ability to have kids from me altogether.
Not that I’ll know until I try, but seeing as my specialist told me when I was seventeen my chances of having children naturally were next to none, I don’t like my chances.
I shake off the thoughts and push myself to my feet, ignoring the spots that cloud my vision.
Fuck.
Calloused hands grasp my elbows, holding on to me as I get my bearings.
“I’ve got you, Siren,” he murmurs, and my chest tightens at the words.
Because once upon a time it was Ronan caring for me through my worsening symptoms, holding my hand at the appointments my parents didn’t have time to attend with me, looking after me when I could barely get out of bed.
And if he didn’t hate me before last night, he sure as hell does now.
