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He looks earnest. Real. But a secret sister? I mean, really? “Then why were you trying to get me out of there? Why not tell me?”
“I wanted you out of there because I knew something was about to go down. There was a server who was sketchy as hell. And one of your uncle’s guards too. I knew something, someone…fuck, Eleanna, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t with you. I wasn’t there, and I should’ve been. I should’ve been with you.”
I realize then that he’s holding my good hand in both of his. He’s squeezing hard and caressing my skin back and forth with one of his thumbs. But it feels foreign. Because he doesn’t touch me this way. Not like he touched hissister.I pull my hand away.
“I thought we were going to be direct. I already know she’s your college girlfriend. You could’ve just told me you were still in love—“
“The fuck? In love with Melody? No.” His face is twisted up with disgust. “No, Ellie, listen to me.” He takes my hand again. “I know it sounds like bullshit, but why would I lie? I’ve been upfront with you so far, haven’t I?” He stares at me with his signature intensity, but I don’t respond. He keeps talking. “Please, Ellie, there’s no one else, I promise. I don’t know what she’s doing here. We had barely started talking when the building blew up.”
Ellie.The tears spill over. I don’t know what to think or believe. I just know that my arm is killing me. I suck in a shaky breath.
“Damn it. I’ll get you more morphine, just rest.”
“Okay,” I exhale, sounding weak and small. I close my eyes and try to breathe, and I feel him. His hand barely under my chin. His lips. On my forehead. Another wave of tears meets my eyes. What would’ve thrilled me before feels…like not enough. Much too little and way, way too late.
I keep my eyes closed and my breathing steady as I wait for the meds to kick in. I feel Mark stroke my hair and grab my hand. I hear him muttering that he’s sorry and telling me to rest. Mostly, I just throb in pain. Soon, sleep overtakes me.
•••••
Ow. OW!
“Shhh, I know, Ellie, I know it hurts.” Mark is whispering to me. The tenderness is so shocking my eyes fly open. With the light of day comes more shoots of torture along my arm. “Tyson is making you some breakfast, then you can take some more meds, okay?” I nod at him, sitting on the edge of the bed, studying me. “I have to go do a bunch of press bullshit now, but Carmen will be here all day and Dr. Phillips, he…he’s my personal physician. My only physician. And a burn specialist.”
I look up and study my husband. He looks exhausted. Still stunning, though, camera-ready and not a hair out of place. But his shoulders are hunched toward me, heavy. The creases in his brow and around his eyes look deep.
“Did you sleep at all?” I wonder aloud, looking at the untouched bed next to me. We’ve never slept together.
“You’re asking about me?” He lets out a disbelieving grunt and then leans over to kiss my forehead again, he talks into my skin as he kisses me. “Unfuckingbelievable. I’m fine.” He stands and grabs his phone from the nightstand. “Just rest, don’t even try to shower today.” I must make a face. “I mean it. Just eat, take meds and sleep. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.” He leaves my side and stops at his bedroom doorway. He looks back, “And no flirting with my chef. I told him not to come up here.”
“Mark. Tyson is gay.”
He almost smirks, “Don’t care.”
I roll my eyes as he storms out. But dang it, I’m smiling.Ugh!
I can’t let him melt my resolve so easily. Everything I thought about before is still true. I deserve better from him. And he’s capable. There’s more to him and I want it—wanted?— it all. Can he, will he ever give his all to me? Is he being loving right now because I’m hurt or is this just guilt that I was hurt on his watch? Is it understanding of how painful burns are? A weird duty he feels because my injury matches his?
Who knows. Not me. I let my head fall back on the headboard. Bad idea. Now all the aching is worse. But as soon as I hear the downstairs side door slam, Carmen is breezing in with a tray of food. She does stay nearby all day. She helps me eat, stay medicated, and even shower, because he is not the boss of me.
But he may have been correct.
The shower completely depleted me. I also cried about what will be some serious scarring on my arm, side, and some of the side of my neck. I wept like a baby about my hair. Carmen pulled it up for me but it feels like half of it is gone. She says it’s not that bad, but I didn’t get a second mirror to look. That’s a battle for another day.
After she helps me change and tucks me into fresh sheets, I sleep immediately. She wakes me at some point to take more meds. She tells me I need to eat some dinner because it’s been too long since I’ve eaten. I get a few bites in and let myself pass back out.
When I wake again, it’s late. It must be the middle of the night, the room is silent and dark. And I have a weighted blanket on?
No. That’s Mark’s arm. Mark is next to me? I can make him out just barely beside me, on his side, one hand across my stomach.
“I told you not to shower.” He mumbles. I place a hand on his arm. Long sleeves.
“Mark? Aren’t you hot?”
“Someone changed all my clothes and underwear and sheets and now I’m never hot.” He squeezes around my middle, but just barely. He pulls away to push himself up on his elbows. “Do you need some pills? Water?”
“No, I think I’m okay.” I say, but he leans over to his nightstand and produces a big insulated cup with a straw.
“Here.” He holds it for me. As soon as I start drinking, I realize I was indeed pretty thirsty. “Better?” I nod. His other hand comes up to brush my cheek, just barely. “I’m so fucking sorry Ellie.”
