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Puffing out a breath of air, his gaze drifts from me to the ceiling. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Actually following through on something unlike everyone else in my life.” He reaches for my hand and I meet him halfway. His cold fingers wrap around mine and I want to envelope them between my palms until they're warm.
“And thanks for being here when I know you don't want to be.” His hazel eyes lock onto mine.
Tilting my head, I run my thumb over his palm. We've held hands a few times before, such as when his stomach cramps were overbearing or his vision was blurred due to bad flare ups, but for some reason this time feels more intimate.
“What makes you so sure I don’t want to be here?”
He licks his cracked lips. “Because I know you have better places to be, and having to constantly check up on me is a burden no one wants. Otherwise my own parents would do it instead.”
I run a hand through my hair. “They do care about you, especially your father. If you let him know what's going on—”
“He'd treat me like I was helpless. There is no in between for him. You know that.”
“You should at least give him a chance. He worries about you all the time.” I rest my other hand on the bed near his leg.
He pulls his hand away, shoving it under the blanket, shifting more to the left. “Only because he has no one else to step in his place when he retires. I'm nothing more than a pawn to him. He uses me the same way he does you and everyone else.”
He's wrong. His father loves and cares for the people in his life more than Enrico assumes. Sometimes Zacharias has a horrible way of showing it. I've known the man for a very long time. There's always way more to a person than meets the eyes, especially with someone like Zacharias. His hard and terrifying exterior is mostly for show.
Enrico's eyes struggle to stay open and I move to the edge of the bed, catching him off guard. I brush his lids closed with the tips of my fingers, his long lashes fluttering against my skin. “Don't fight what your body needs, pequeño. Sleep. You can worry about everything else when you have more energy.”
He shivers, tugging the thin, knitted blanket closer to his face. I stroke his cold cheek and he leans into me. “It's freezing. How are you so warm?”
“Should I ask for more blankets or adjust the thermostat?”
”The nurse did earlier and they keep bringing me heated ones but it never lasts. She said it could be the medications and IV drip.” His teeth chatter.
I nod. My mind goes back to when I was younger and sometimes slept on the streets with friends. Our body heat radiating off each other was what saved our lives on the coldest days. Shrugging out of my coat, I unbutton my shirt and he shoots me a curious expression.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to warm you up enough so you can rest easier.”
He eyes me up and down as I tug off my shirt, tossing it with my blanket on the chair.
“By getting naked?”
I laugh. “Only partly. The more skin contact, the more of my body heat you'll be able to retain.” I pull off my tank and roll my gun inside, shoving it under his pillow.
“You've done this before.”
“A few times,” I say, climbing under the covers beside him.
“You're serious.”
“When am I not?” I wrap my arm around him, dragging him closer. He pulls back enough to discard his gown to the ground. I lift a brow, eyeing his mostly naked body, the hospital's mesh underwear hugging his muscular form. A white bandage covers the center of his stomach and a drainage bag rests between us. I move it behind him so it doesn't get crushed. As my eyes work their way back up to his, I take in all the bright tattoos on his chest, along with the nipple piercing I always forget is there.
He pushes out his bare chest, wiggling in place. “Go big or go home, right?”
I laugh. “I think I'll leave my pants on. Don't want anyone to get the wrong idea.”
He throws his head back and laughs. It's good to see his eyes lighting up again. “I hate to tell you this but the nurse from earlier already asked me if my boyfriend wanted a breakfast tray.”
My brows lift. “Even after I specified last night I was your uncle?”
