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Her swallow is audible. “Yeah. I was worried. You’ve never missed a day before, and you don’t seem like the type not to message ahead of time if you were going to.”
“No, I’m not that type of guy,” I agree. The way she seems frustrated with her worry for me has me asking, “Does it bother you that you were worried about me?”
“I shouldn’t worry about you,” she says.
“I shouldn’t worry about you either. But I do, and I don’t want to stop.”
Scarlett doesn’t say anything. Instead, she inches closer to me and squeezes my hand. The extra contact does wonders to distract me from the pulse between my brows and the pressure in my nose, but it’s still not enough.
I roll to my back and release her hand, pulling my arm up and resting it on her pillow, just above her head instead.
“Come here.” It’s both a plea and a demand.
My heartbeat skyrockets when she moves close and curls into my side. Her cheek presses to my chest, and her arm moves slowly, carefully across my abdomen.
“Tell me something, Scarlett. Something I don’t know about you,” I murmur.
Her words are the last thing I hear before the darkness closes in.
“I didn’t think I would ever be able to replace what I lost, but because of you, I think I have.”
My eyelids flutter open when a soft touch brushes my hair back. A cold cloth is set on my forehead, and I moan at how good it feels against my hot skin.
“Lean up for me, Adam.”
I push up enough to swallow two pills and drink some water before falling back to the mattress. “Scar,” I mumble, despite the burst of pain in my throat.
She shushes me. “Go back to sleep.”
“Don’t go. Stay here.”
I feel her lips touch my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ve won. I’m here.”
Her words confuse me, but I only nod, content with her confirmation at the moment.
“Okay. Good night, baby,” I murmur before falling back asleep.
22
ADAM
“Ten more seconds!” I shout over the loud clap of the weighted ropes hitting the floor. Over and over, Scarlett throws them in the air before bringing them back down again.
Her shoulder is doing phenomenally well. It won’t ever be back to what it is, but after the past eight weeks of physiotherapy, I think she’s almost as good as she’ll ever be again.
The ropes she’s lifting aren’t the weight she’s used to—far from it, really—but I think she’s just happy to be doing something different today. Something that is a testament to how hard she’s worked to heal and how far she’s come.
Sweat drips from her face and is soaked through her tank top, leaving a wet patch beneath the neckline. There’s almost a hint of a smile on her face that has me beaming with pride.
“Good! Drop ’em.”
They fall to the floor. She tosses her head back and takes long inhales. “How did I do?”
“Perfectly, Scar. You were perfect. You’ve come so far since we started.”
She smiles, pushing the matted pieces of hair off her forehead that have escaped her bun. “I had help.”
“No, that was all you. I just stood here and barked orders.”
