Page 107 of Halo

Panic crawls up my throat as another wave of pain twists through her. Leah, my little ray of sunshine cancer survivor, has endometriosis.

Well, shit. There's a damn good chance last night triggered this.

“Let’s get you some medicine. Do you have some ibuprofen? Naproxen?”

She hums, her eyes lingering on me. “I took some ibuprofen.” A lazy smile pulls at her lips. “And some hydrocodone.”

“Okay. Good.” I adjust the sweater over her shoulder. “That's good,” I repeat softly.

“I may or may not be getting a little loopy,” she admits, a soft giggle slipping out.

“Ah. Even better. Relief is on the way.” I chuckle. “Do you want to try a warm bath?”

She grimaces. “I just wanna stay here.”

“Okay. Then we stay here.” I settle onto the floor beside her, keeping myself turned toward the couch.

A smile teases at her lips as she relaxes against the pillow.

“You could've told me, you know,” I whisper, pushing a few wayward strands of hair off of her clammy skin. “The initials behind my name vouch that I actually know a thing or two about the human body.”

The corner of her mouth curls as she opens one eye to glare at me. “But you're not my doctor. You're my boyfriend.” She nuzzles back into her pillow, her words muffled. “I don't want you to look at me with pity … or like I'm broken. I want you to look at me like … like I'm hot.”

Oh yeah. Norco has entered the chat.

I lean in and kiss her temple. “Oh, trust me. You are very, very hot.”

“And sexy?”

I chuckle, pressing my lips to her skin again. “The absolute sexiest—” I pause, losing concentration as it registers what she just called me.

Boyfriend.

Leah called me her boyfriend.

Granted it may be an opioid-induced declaration, and I'm probably way too old to be labeled as a ‘boyfriend’—I'm definitely too old to be this excited about it—but damn, it feels good to hear her claim me like that.

And now, I want to hear her say it again.

I rub my hand across my stubble as an uncontrollable grin tugs at my mouth “Did you just call me your boyfriend?”

Her body grows rigid as she sheepishly peeks out. “I mean … at least I thought … Oh gosh …” Her pink cheeks glow crimson before she flops over, covering her face with her arms. “Can this possibly get any more embarrassing?”

“There's nothing to be embarrassed about.” Peeling her arm off of her, I lace my fingers with hers and kiss her knuckles. “Now, get some rest … girlfriend.”

She beams up at me and brings our joined hands to her mouth, kissing my fingers. Nuzzling into my palm, her eyes finally close as she drifts back to sleep.

Once Leah has settled, I grab a nearby throw blanket and cover my exposed body. I shift closer to her and lean back against the couch, resting my head beside hers before closing my eyes.

The room falls quiet, leaving only the slow, steady rhythm of Leah's breathing.

A disgruntled huff breaks the silence.

I crack an eye open to the judgmental frown of a grumpy pit bull.

“What, Cujo?” I whisper-shout. “What do you want?”

He narrows his eyes.