Page 46 of Stormbreaker

She shakes her head. “No. Don’t do that. Nothing could ever come between us.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, realizing how much I needed to hear those words.

We both fall silent, listening to the soft beep and hiss of the machines.

Trinity bites her bottom lip, rolling it back and forth.

“What will you do for the next test?” she asks carefully.

“I’ll make sure I qualify for Fiama,” I say. “I can’t . . . I can’t do anything else. I promised my father and Knox. Besides, I’ve always known this was my fate.”

Trinity nods. “If you think that’s best.”

“What . . . about . . .” I let the question hang between us.

“What about me?” she finishes. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll get out of this bed and see if I can’t kick the second test’s ass.”

I smile at her. “What an unbeatable pair we make.”

Trinity pulls a wry face as the door opens, and Edward enters. He’s freshly showered, damp hair hanging in his eyes. He walks over to plant a long kiss on Trinity’s forehead.

“How are you?” he asks, and she blinks heavily as her head hits the pillow. It’s clear she’s starting to fade. While Edward fusses, I ask the doctor to look at the cut I sustained during the tower of fire. She assures me that it’s healing nicely. After applying some fresh bandages, she shoos me out, but Edward refuses to budge.

So I say goodbye to give them some space, only to find Rook waiting at the end of the hall.

I hesitate for a moment and then make my way over.

I narrow my eyes, trying not to notice how well he fills out his T-shirt.

“Why are you waiting here?” I ask.

“I’m not waiting. I’m standing.”

“Here? In the middle of the hall?”

He shrugs his wide shoulders and looks around. “The light is good here.”

“For what?”

“Standing?” He raises one brow as if it were obvious.

I huff out an annoyed breath, but he is kind of right. Sunlight gilds the arch of his pierced brow and the curve of his cheekbone, highlighting the smattering of freckles bridging his nose. His eyes, which appear green and gold most of the time, reflect with bright flecks of copper. Skies, he’s beautiful.

His head tips as if he’s reading my mind. “Can I help you with something?”

His voice is low, dark, an arrow straight to my chest, sending shivers climbing over my scalp.

“How long are you planning to stand here?” I ask, my tone wobblier than I’d like.

He shrugs again. “For as long as I want.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to get something to eat.”

He pushes himself off the wall so that we’re inches apart, then towers over me as he licks the corner of his mouth. My gaze tracks the movement, zeroing in on it as I catch a breath of his scent. Crisp and fresh. Green grass and apples, I think.

He’s so close, I can feel warmth radiating off him.

“You don’t need to clear your schedule with me, sweetheart,” he says in that voice that works its way into the seams of my shaky equilibrium.