She continues. “And if you experience dizziness, vomiting, severe headache, shortness of breath?—”
“She won’t,” Sebastian says, like he can prevent symptoms through sheer will.
The nurse pauses, then continues anyway, because she’s done this before. She continues rattling off the instructions, but I’m only half listening. I just want out of here, the bleach and stale air making my skin crawl.
When she leaves, the room goes quiet except for the hum of the fluorescent lights.
Sebastian stares at our linked hands, his grip firm enough to borderon painful.
“Hey,” I whisper.
His eyes lift to mine. Something in them makes my chest tighten. He looks like a man who almost lost his religion.
“You’re not going to like what happens next,” he says.
I blink. “What happens next?”
He leans in slightly, voice low. “You’re going home. And I’m going to take care of you.”
My mouth opens and he holds up his hand, giving me a look.
But I’m not scared of him.
“Sebastian—”
“Ivy.”
That one word is enough to shut me up. Not because I’m afraid of him. Because I can hear the fracture in his restraint. The way he’s holding himself together by a thread.
I swallow.
“Fine,” I say, like I’m granting him a favor. “You win.”
His gaze flickers—something dark and relieved. “Good.” He squeezes my hand. “That means no making coffee. Or breakfast. Or cleaning. Only resting.”
I nod because arguing is futile.
An hour later,Sebastian carries me through the hospital corridor while I pretend my ribs don’t hurt every time I inhale.
I nearly giggle at my thoughts.Ivy Hart: kidnapped, restrained, and rescued.
Also Ivy Hart: being bridal carried out of the hospital by a man who looks like he’s ready to kill the entire world for daring to breathe near her.
The medicine may have made me slightly loopy. Although I’m aware enough to see the nurses watching us leave with sympathy in their eyes. Because of what we endured or because Sebastian was being a tyrant and they know he’s going to make sure I do nothing except lie in bed like a slug, I’m not sure.
Sebastian doesn’t make eye contact with anyone. Not even me. That pretty much tells me I’m going to be living the bedridden slug life.
Outside, the afternoon air feels sharper than it should. The sun is bright. The sky is offensively blue, like nothing happened. Like my fear and kidnapping weren’t real.
Sebastian adjusts his hold on me as he reaches the car, and I cling to his shirt without thinking. He refused the wheelchair. Mostly because I freaked out. I remember them wheeling my mom around?—
I squeeze my eyes closed.Don’t think about that right now.
When I open them, Sebastian is staring at me. His throat bobs.
“I’ll tell you later. Right now, I don’t want to think about…” My voice shakes. When I speak again, it’s low enough that only he can hear me. “… my mom.”
He nods, his eyes shining with sympathy. He opens the passenger door and carefully settles me into the seat like I’m an explosive device. Then buckles me in like I might fly away if he doesn’t.
