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“Jade…” Prescott growls, the warning note evident in his voice.
“Hey, I just say it as I see it.”
“Bed, now.”
Chuckling, I let him help me into my room. The covers are already pulled away, so I slide into the soft fabric. Prescott pulls the covers over me before sitting next to me and grabs the bottle of water somebody left on the nightstand.
“Water first.”
I wrap my fingers around the bottle, tentatively taking a sip. When it glides down easily, I take a few more. “Happy?”
“It’ll do for now.”
“I don’t like it when you’re bossy.” Putting the bottle on the nightstand, I lean back, my eyelids feeling heavy the moment my head touches the pillow.
“I don’t like to see you weak, so I guess we’re even.” He pushes my hair gently from my face. “Try to get some rest. Okay?”
I hum sleepily. “You’ll be here? With me?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Prescott promises.
Soft footsteps move around the room, and finally, I can hear the familiar creak of the door as it’s pulled closed, signaling we’re finally alone.
“Was it the same?” I ask Prescott. “With Gabriel?”
The silence stretches between us, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer me, but after a while he does.
“Yeah.”
I nod, pulling the covers tighter around me as another shiver runs through me. “This is just the first one. Things are going to get worse.”
I don’t know why I expect him to lie to me, but he doesn’t.
“They are. That’s why you need to rest. Gather all your strength. I need you strong, Jade.” His voice grows deeper, rougher. “I need you to fight.”
I turn my head to the side, brushing my lips against the fingers still playing in my hair. “For you,” I whisper as the darkness slowly starts to claim me.I love you.
* * *
Startling,I blink my eyes open. I’m not sure how long I’ve been out of it, but my body is still fighting the chills. The room is clouded in the dim light, the darkness the only thing I can see through the windows.
I must have been out of it for a while. Sliding my hand out of the covers, I reach for Prescott, only to find his side of the bed empty.
What the—
I turn to the side, finding him standing by my desk. No, not standing, more like crouched, his leg propped on the chair.
He’s here.
He hasn’t left.
He isn’t like my dad.
My heart slows down as the realization sets in. I slide my tongue over my dry lips, feeling the chopped skin. My throat is raw from all the throwing up. I should probably get— a glimmer of something flashes in Prescott’s hand. I narrow my eyes, trying to see what he’s holding.
“P-Prescott?”
He turns around almost instantly, his eyes finding mine. Relief and something else, something that looks a lot like guilt flashing on his face. But what would he have to feel guilty for?
