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“Never mind. I just mess things up, so I’ll go with Roy. And you won’t get hurt anymore because of me.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “You didn’t screw anything up that can’t be fixed. Rather easily, usually. Why are you so hard on yourself? So much harder than anyone is on you?”
I couldn’t do this with him right then. Tiredness weighed my limbs and even my eyelids. “Michael…”
He put out his hand. “Come here. You’re okay. Everything is going to be fine.”
“We both know that might not be the case.” I rubbed my eyes.
“Bridget.” He still held his hand out, and as if I needed to hold his hand more than I needed air to breathe, I walked over and took his hand in my own. Our fingers twined easily, locking into place as if they were meant to be together. “Listen to me. That chair there? It folds out to become a very uncomfortable bed. I want you to transform it, then grab the sheets from the closet to make it more comfortable. I’d let you share my bed, but they would object, so this will work better. Then you’re going to sleep for a few hours, because we can’t go anywhere until tomorrow. I can guarantee they won’t release me until then, but afterward, we’re going to my home.”
We were? I knew almost nothing about where Michael lived. He’d apparently taken Hope there once, but I never asked her where it was. Somehow, it was better if I pretended I never thought about Michael, at least when it came to my sisters.
Even if Hope was talking to Michael about me?
I shook my head. It wasn’t helpful to think about the betrayal I fought off every time I thought about it.
“Okay,” I said, because it was easier than fighting with him. I pulled the sheets out of the closet then folded down the chair, per his instructions. I half wished I knew about the bed before I spent the entire night sitting up, but better late than never.
“It isn’t going to be great, but it should work for now.” He picked up his phone. “I’m texting Roy to tell him you’re not coming with him to the hotel, so he doesn’t wait for you.” He winced, reminding me he was in pain.Michael should be resting, not dealing with me.
“I’m sorry.” I kept my voice low so as not to distract him, but I dimmed the lights. I hoped it might help him rest better.
He shook his head. “Last apology I want to hear.”
“You got shot because of me,” I reminded him as I climbed onto the uncomfortable bed-chair. “You had to come rescue me because Justin fooled me. I’m an idiot, and you’re having to deal with all of this because of me.”
The exhaustion left my voice wobbling, but I refused to cry.
He sighed, leaning back on his bed. “Two things, Bridge. Number one, you are the farthest thing from an idiot that I’ve ever known. I think that might be part of what you suffer from, actually—your intellect is your own worst enemy. And secondly, I never do anything I don’t want to do. Not ever. Maybe that sounds ridiculous, because everyone has to do things they don’t want to do. No. Not me. I promise you that. I wanted to be there, so that’s where I was.”
I rolled over to look at him. “You’re right. It sounds ridiculous.” I could think of whole lists of things I had to do that I didn’t want to do.
He grinned before he winced again, shifting to readjust his position in the bed. Was it time for more pain medication? “I’m deadly serious, Bridget.”
“Hmm,” I said, cocking my head at him. “Really? Youwantedto get shot? Youwantedto be here? Youwantto pay taxes? Come on, everyone does things they don’t want to do. I get your point, though. What you’re saying, I think, is that you have the kind of life where you can make decisions. You have self-determination, and you want me to stop apologizing to you.”
I couldn’t read his thoughts well on a good day, but it seemed like a safe enough bet. Then again, I was as lost as I’d ever been to what another person was thinking, so who knew?
“Bridget Radford, how about, just for now, you give all your problems to me? Whatever you’re worrying about, just for the moment, you make it so that I’m in charge of those problems. Okay? You don’t have to decide anything or think about anything. You just have to do what I tell you, and right now, that means going to sleep for a few hours.”
For the second time in minutes, I absolutely wanted to obey his command. Without questions. Without thought.
I decided not to ask myself why.
“Sure,” I said easily.
He nodded. “Great.”
“One thing, though.” My jaw stretched with a long yawn, but I wanted to make one final thing clear. “Stop trying to pull out your IV. You’re just going to hurt yourself, and honestly, it’s beneath you to think that’s a good idea.”
Michael smirked at me. It was such an un-Michael look that it actually made me grin back at him. “Okay, Bridget. I won’t touch my IV.”
Good. That is good. I might have even said the words aloud, but I finally closed my eyes. Michael told me to go to bed, and right then, I would give over all my problems to his keeping—even though he was in a hospital bed, and it was a ridiculous idea.
* * *
“If you wake her,I’m going to be really unhappy.” Michael’s whispered voice, laced with hostility, pierced through my dreams, rousing me from sleep. I blinked at the ceiling, reorienting myself.
