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“I did. I used your thumb to open your phone, and then I used it to call her. Hope you don’t mind.”
I try to lift my eyebrows at him, but even doing that hurts so I let them fall. “Would it matter if I did?” I lift my hand in front of my face so I can look at it. “You used my thumb?”
“Guy’s got to do what a guy’s got to do.”
“You didn’t look at my naked pictures, did you?” It’s a feeble attempt at a joke. There aren’t any.
“No, but if you have naked pictures on your phone, I’ll wait until you go to sleep to use your thumb again.” He leans closer to me. “So go back to sleep now, okay?” He laughs wickedly.
I would laugh too, but it hurts too much. “I feel terrible.”
“I know.”
I suddenly lift my head. “Where’s Mitchell?”
“I took him back to Ma’s right before dark.”
“I thought you were keeping him.” I reach up to adjust my pillow under my head, but my arms won’t cooperate, so I just let them fall. He reaches behind me, lifts me a little, and adjusts my pillows, then lays me back down.
“Better?”
“Much.” I roll toward him. “So why did you take Mitchell back?”
“I need to get a cabin set up for him. Paint. Get a bed for him. I don’t want him to have to sleep on a blow-up mattress. When I get him, I want it to be right, you know?”
I nod, because talking hurts too much.
He gets up and comes back with a cool cloth from the bathroom, damp with water. He very gently cleans my face with it, and then folds it and lays it on my forehead.
“That feels nice,” I murmur.
He presses the purple juice into my hand. “Drink this and then you can go back to sleep.” When I do nothing, he lifts the straw to my lips and slips it inside. I drink until it’s gone, even though it hurts like crazy, because he looks so proud of me while I do it. “I’m taking you to the doctor tomorrow if you’re not feeling better by morning.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He looks at me like he’s surprised.
“What?”
“Your grandmother said you were a terrible patient.”
“Gran lies.” I close my eyes and try to clear my mind. “Are you staying?”
“Unless you want me to go,” he replies, only a little hesitation in his voice.
“I don’t really care.” And I don’t. He can stay, he can go, or he can leave and come back. I am past the point of caring.
“Good,” he says. “Because I wasn’t leaving either way. You’re stuck with me.”
I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck with.
23
Ethan
I haven’t shared a bed with a woman since Melanie. And that was a long time ago.
I find myself fascinated by the little noises Abigail makes, and I keep jerking awake to make sure she’s still breathing if she ever gets quiet. I haven’t had anybody but myself to take care of in a really long time. It feels nice to have spent yesterday evening and most of the day today with Mitchell, and then to get to spend time with Abigail too. Really nice.
