Page 116 of The Image of You

“Is there a doctor or someone we should call? Are you under medical supervision?”

“No, I only see the neurologist for checkups. There wasn’t much he could do but monitor me.”

“Maybe you should check in later, okay? You can tell him what has happened and get him to recommend someone here. I need to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’ll call him later.”

She smiled, her bottom lip still quivering. I felt our connection reforming, already growing stronger. I pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth.

Standing her up, I drew the blanket from her shoulders and tugged off my sweatshirt and her wet clothes, leaving her in her underwear. Her skin was pebbled with goose bumps with a slight bluish tinge. Muttering a curse, I opened the door and tugged her inside, holding her under the warm spray. Long tremors rushed through her until, at last, she relaxed and, with a sigh, melted into my chest. Her hand fisted my T-shirt, her head resting over my heart. I let the water run over us until I knew she was no longer cold. I turned her to the water and helped wash her hair, remembering all the times this exact scene had played out right here. As I reached out to shut off the water, she covered my hand with hers. “My turn,” she said quietly.

“Ally…”

“Now, Adam.”

I smirked at her tone as I hunched low enough for her to reach. “Here we go with you being bossy again,” I teased her.

She pressed her lips into my skin. “Get used to it.”

I lifted my face, the water running over my skin nowhere near as warm as her touch. “Happily.”

After the shower, I dried her off and slipped a shirt over her head. “My favorite,” she whispered, rubbing the thin cotton of my shirt between her fingers. I grinned as her wet, lacy brassiere hit the floor. Another patented Ally move and I knew her underwear would follow, so I handed her a pair of my boxers. “It’s been waiting for you,” I told her, running my hand over her shoulder and smoothing the fabric. “Just like I have.”

“Adam—”

I shook my head. “Later. I want you to rest.” I stroked her temple. “How’s your head?”

“Better.”

“Do you need some pain meds?”

“I only need you.”

“You have me.”

I tucked her into our bed and pulled on a fresh T-shirt and boxers before slipping in beside her. Her entire body loosened as I drew her close and felt the warmth settle inside me that could only be from her touch. I breathed in deep lungfuls of her scent, and I calmed—finally feeling some semblance of peace. Her hands clutched my shirt, fisted even in sleep, as if she was afraid I would slip away. My arms held her equally as tight, the same fear etched in my head. I couldn’t close my eyes, too worried this was all a very real dream and I would wake up, once again alone and empty.

I had her back, and I wasn’t letting her go again. We were both exhausted, and I wanted her to rest. When she woke up, we could talk and reconnect. Figure out where we went from here.

Slowly, I relaxed, letting sleep pull me under.

* * *

Hours later, I woke up feeling different. Lighter.

Warmer.

My arms felt the weight of another person, and I opened my eyes. The room was dim, but I focused on the woman I was holding. Ally’s eyes were open, and she was staring at me.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Gently, I stroked her cheek. “No, you’re not dreaming. The nightmare is over—for both of us.”

“We need to talk. There’s so much I don’t understand.” She frowned. “And I need to understand to move forward.”

Her strength and determination made me proud. I loved her for both those traits.

“I know. Are you up to it? How’s your head?”