Page 500 of End Game

I pull the chair closer and sit beside her. For the first time since the ambulance arrived, I don't look at the monitor first.

I look at her.

Some color has returned to her face. Her lips aren't quite as dry. Her breathing is still deeper than normal, but it no longer looks like every breath is dragging itself out of her.

I take her hand carefully. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

“Excellent clinical description.”

“My brain isn't working well enough for medical terminology.”

“That's okay. Mine is working enough for both of us.”

Her expression changes. “That's gonna be a problem, isn’t it?”

I stare at her.

Even sick, she knows me too fucking well.

I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. “They're doing exactly what they should be doing.”

“I know.”

“The fluids are helping. The insulin is running. They're checking labs frequently.”

“I know, Griff.”

I stop.

Right—she doesn't need the report. She has nurses for that.

For several seconds I just hold her hand.

Her thumb moves weakly over mine. “Where are the guys?”

“Waiting.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes close briefly. “Dex okay?”

“No.”

She opens one eye. “Honest.”

“You married me for the honesty.”

“I married you for health insurance.”

“There she is.”

The tiny laugh costs her enough that I immediately regret making her do it.

She sees that too. “I'm okay.”