I watch his sleeping face as Atticus lies on the bed in the guestroom. His chest rises and falls, the hand that features a bandage wrapped wrist twitching every few minutes.
He doesn’t snore; he doesn’t move. Just… exists.
He has another bandage on his hip, where some of the holy water got him, as well as a matching twin on his right bicep. His clothes saved him from burning the rest, though his entire body is kind of red and irritated.
I’ve been sitting here for about an hour, waiting for him to wake up. The doctor said all of his vitals were good and that it’ll just take time. No one knowshowmuch time.
But I would wait forever. I will sit on the edge of this bed until I grow old and gray if that’s what it takes.
Lightning flashes outside, lighting up the dark sky.
I haven’t slept in almost twenty-four hours.
Everyone else is in bed, tired and worn down from the day we’ve had, but I’m here—waiting.
I want to be here when he wakes. I need to ask him if he loves me.
I move until I’m lying at his side, staring at his profile greedily. If he really loved me, he wouldn’t have sent me away, right?
But… did he ever say hedidn’t, or was it just that heshouldn’t?
With this thought in mind, as I debate the probability, I drift off to sleep.
And as I wake again some hours later, it’s to soft rubbing on my back. I’m warm, wrapped up, safe.
A gentle, pleasant hum leaves me.
Until I remember exactly what the fuck happened before I fell asleep, and I sit up quickly, only to be yanked back down.
“Whoa, there, sweetheart,” Atticus says, laughing. “Don’t move too much; I’m still a little sore.”
I wince, laying my head back on the pillow next to him. “Sorry.”
He shrugs. “No need.”
We stare at each other, and I relish the hazel of his eyes. The proof that he’shimagain, and I’m the one who gets to lie with him. His full lips are a bit chapped, but I want to kiss them anyway. I want to collapse into him.
But instead of saying that, I ask, “How did you become possessed?”
Atticus sighs, his eyes slipping shut as he faces the ceiling again. “I was trying to save my brother. I made a deal that backfired on me.”
Nodding, I lift a hand to rub softly against his chest, where I know he has no wounds.
“I’m sorry you got caught up in it. The demon probably figured you were an easy mark because I… I…”
“You love me?” I ask, breathless. “Or was that the demon talking?”
Atticus opens his eyes, turning his head to face me once more.
“That was me,” he whispers. “That was all me.”
His gaze is so heavy, so intense that I shiver beneath it.
“Say it, then,” I command softly.
“I love you, Cameron,” he murmurs, eyes falling to stare at my lips. “A lot.”
Hot joy envelops my body, making me tingly and giddy with joy. He loves me! I can keep him!
