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He’s getting closer and closer, but somehow it’s getting darker and darker out here. I blink, trying to clear my vision.

“Adam?” He bends and lays a gentle hand against my cheek. I try to smile, but it’s too much effort.

My eyes slide closed.

Chapter 32

My drift back to consciousness this time is much better. For one thing, I wake up knowing I’m safe. A voice is telling me so.

My eyelids feel glued closed, but I determinedly peel them open. I need to see who it is telling me over and over again, “You’re safe, you’re going to be okay, it’s safe to wake up.”

The overhead lights immediately make me regret my idiotic decision to open my eyes, and I flinch, squeezing them closed again.

“Adam?” The voice is concerned now. “Turn off the overhead light,” it orders, and a second later the brightness pressing against my lids lessens. I crack open one eye, just enough to see that the light is a lot dimmer now, then cautiously open both.

“You’re awake,” the voice says with a hefty note of relief. “Anna, let Tristan know.”

I blink at Clive and wonder if I’m still unconscious. Is this some kind of coma dream? It’s not that I think Clive hates me—much—or that he’d do me any harm, but if someone had said he’d sit by my bedside and tell my unconscious self that I’m safe, I would have laughed it off.

A shadow falls over me, and I move my gaze to Anna’s face. “Hi,” she whispers. “You’re awake. Okay. I’ll be back.” She disappears, and I turn back to Clive.

“What—” I stop and clear my throat, which is so dry it hurts. Clive reaches for a cup.

“Do you want some water?”

I nod, but when I try to sit up, pain slices through me like a lightning strike. The sound I make is half gasp, half moan.

“Lie still,” Clive orders sharply. “You have three broken ribs.”

Staring up at him through the tears in my eyes, I mutter, “Fuck.”

“Pretty much. Don’t move. I’ll adjust the bed so you can drink.”

Two minutes later, I let my aching head fall back against the pillow, grateful for water, beds that rise, and whatever painkillers the hospital has me on. I’m definitely on something, because the sharp pain in my side lessened to a dull throb too quickly for it to be natural.

“How long was I asleep?” I ask Clive.

“Not long—about four hours. You have a concussion and a cracked kneecap as well as the ribs, and the doctor mentioned something about cognitive tests.” He pauses. “You know who you are, I’m guessing?”

I manage a nod. “I remember everything, I think. Tristan ki—uh, took care of Geoffrey, right?” Belatedly I realise that a hospital probably isn’t a great place to talk about killing people.

“Yes. You passed out, and he and Pierce brought you here, to St. Vincent’s. Adam…” He leans forward, his face pale and eyes intent. “You’re safe now. Whatever he did to you, it’s over.”

My brain is fogged by pain and concussion, but it’s impossible to miss Clive’s concern. Carefully, I lift my hand and reach out to take his. The way he clings to me is a surprise, and not for the first time, I wonder what his story is. Somehow, I get the feeling it’s not a nice one.

“He didn’t… I’m okay, Clive. He kicked me, and I think he might have dropped me on my head, but he didn’t do anything other than that.” The deep relief on his face makes me hate myself for every single thing I’ve done to irritate him. “I’m glad you’re here,” I add impulsively, and he gives me a shaky smile.

“You’ll change your mind about that before you’re healed,” he predicts. “I plan to make you follow doctor’s orders to the letter.”

Before I have time to consider the implications of that, Anna comes back in, followed by two strangers.

“Welcome back, Adam,” one of them says, coming toward me with a nice smile. “I’m your doctor, Samantha, and this is Lisa, the nurse who’ll be taking care of you. How are you feeling?”

“I’m not my best self right now,” I admit, and she pulls a sympathetic face.

“I’ll bet, and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you that life isn’t going to be fun while those ribs are healing.”

Great. “I figured.”