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Everything about him is all wrong.
I smooth out the blanket covering me. “Are you okay?”
“I will be.” He says the statement with such absolute resolve. I want to believe him, but he can’t even look me in the eyes.
Goosebumps explode on my arms. “Do you want to tell me why I’m here?”
It feels like a whole minute goes by before he finally looks at me. “You were dehydrated, bleeding from your head, and tempting fate. You’re lucky to be in this bed rather than the morgue.”
“Morgue? That’s drastic for a couple of stitches and a cold.” My brows pull together, and I’m hit with a sharp pain at the top of my head. I touch the spot. My fingers hover over a giant Band-Aid.
His jaw ticks. “Don’t touch. With your good fortune, you’ll pull a stitch and bleed all over your new gown.” He brushes my hand away with a gentleness that fails to match his tone.
“How did I end up getting stitches?”
He caresses my cheek with his thumb. “I found you passed out in my bathroom after you knocked your head against the floor.”
“Oh my God.” My lungs ache, making it hard to breathe normally. I wince at the burning sensation.
“What hurts?”
“The real question is what doesn’t.” I shake my head and regret it.
“Don’t do that.”
I rub my eyes. “I can’t believe I ended up here.”
He stands taller. “The doctor says you’ll go home by the end of the week.”
“What day is it?”
“Friday.”
“Friday?!” I end up coughing after my outburst.
How is it Friday already?The last day I remember fully is Monday, when I had to call in sick.
“You’ve been in and out of it from your fever and then your head injury.”
“How many days have I been here?”
“Two. They want to keep you here for observation before letting you go home.”
I rub my eyes. “This all sounds so expensive.”
His nostrils flare. “The only thing you need to worry about is getting better.”
“That’s easy for you to say. I can’t afford any kind of deductible that includes oxygen therapy and overnight hospital stays.” I shift in the bed, but Rowan places a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
Darkness crosses over his face. “It’s already paid for.”
My pride shrivels up at the idea of being so financially insecure that he needs to cover my medical bill. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
His entire jaw clenches. “I don’t need your money.”
“Is everything okay?” My voice is a hoarse whisper.
He releases a deep exhale. “It’s good you’re more coherent.”
