Page 37 of Life Or Death

“Yeah,” I say, nodding toward the chair.

He lowers himself into the seat, his arms resting on his thighs, his hands clasped between his knees.

“Your legs look good,” he says finally.

I blink at him, sure I heard him wrong. “What?”

“The grafts. They’re healing.” His voice is rough. “That’s progress.”

Something warm unfurls in my chest at his words.

“I guess,” I say, looking down at my covered legs. “It doesn’t feel like progress when I can barely walk.”

Lucifer leans forward. “You were walking today. That’s something.”

“Three steps,” I mutter. “I took three steps.”

“I won’t sign you up for a marathon just yet, but . . .” He smiles, flashing me his dimples. “ . . . that’s three more steps than yesterday.”

His smile catches me off guard. It’s not the predatory grin I’ve seen him flash across the bar. This smile is different—gentle, almost boyish, transforming his hardened features into something unexpectedly beautiful. The lines around his eyes crinkle, and for a moment, he looks almost approachable.

But as quickly as it appears, it fades, replaced by his usual guarded expression. It’s a good thing too, because a girl could get addicted to that smile. I push those thoughts out of my head, focusing instead on the fact that he’s here at an unusual time.

“So, why are you here? It’s kind of early for you, no?”

He doesn’t answer right away, his dark eyes studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

“You want the truth or the rehearsed excuse I came up with on the way here?”

My fingers tighten around the edge of my hospital gown. “I don’t know. The truth can be scary.”

“Yeah, I guess it can.” He claps his hands against his thighs. “We’ll play it safe and go with the excuse then.” He pauses, lifting his hand to his face. His fingers move over his lips, and he tugs at the lower one, seeming to contemplate his words. “I was in the neighborhood.”

Another laugh bubbles free from my chest. “You could do better than that.”

“Alright, I like the hospital food.”

I shake my head. “Nope. It’s horrible here. Try again.”

“Yeah? Is that why you look so thin?”

I wasn’t aware I looked thin, but thinking about it now, I haven’t really been eating much. As bad as the food is, I don’t have much of an appetite.

I shrug. “The breakfast isn’t terrible, and the chocolate pudding is pretty good too. Sandy always puts an extra cup on my tray.”

He leans back in his chair and raises his hands, folding them behind his head. “Right, well, breakfast is out, and pudding ain’t going to fill me up. What do you say I go grab us some food from the barbecue place down the block?”

“Does that mean you’re staying?” I ask, my voice sounding a bit high-pitched.

“I don’t like eating alone.”

Yeah, me neither.

So, me and my husband share our first meal together, and to my surprise, I don’t hate it.

Not even a little.

CHAPTER ELEVEN