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“Hey, you’re up.”
“Yeah, what time is it?” I ask as I try to sit up.
Prescott joins me on the bed, adding a pillow behind my back. “Almost midnight. You’ve been out for a while.” He touches my forehead. “It doesn’t seem like you have a fever any longer, which is good. How are you feeling?”
“Thirsty.”
Prescott unclasps a bottle of water and hands it to me. I take a few long sips, letting the cool liquid slide down my throat.
“Better?”
“Yeah, better.”
“Wanna try and eat something? Yasmin made some homemade soup earlier.”
My nose furrows at the mere mention of food. “I don’t think I’ll be able to hold it down.”
“You’ll have to try. You need to get as much energy as you can.”
“I know, but… maybe tomorrow?”
Prescott watches me for a moment before reluctantly nodding. “Fine, but tomorrow you’re eating something.”
“You know it, Doc. Let’s go to sleep.”
I couldn’t believe I was ready to go back to sleep when I barely woke up, but it was true.
Prescott grabs the bottle and puts it back on the nightstand.
“What were you doing up anyway?”
His back stiffens at my question. “What do you mean?”
“You were standing at my desk when I woke up.”
“Oh, that. I just got out of the shower and was putting on some clothes. My bag’s there.”
I look at my desk, and sure enough, I can see the dark shape of his duffle bag on the ground. It makes sense, only… I still remember a flash. Or did I imagine it?
He pulls away the covers and slides into the bed.
“C’mere,” he whispers, opening his arms.
Letting go of all the worries, I turn my back to him. Prescott’s arms pull me into his chest as his familiar scent lolls me back to sleep.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
JADE
“Don’t leave me.” I tighten my arms around Mom’s frail body. Her familiar scent is gone, overpowered by the smell of disease, medicine, and antiseptic. The mix makes my stomach roll, but even that doesn’t stop me from clinging to my mother tighter. “You can’t leave me. Not yet.”
I’m not ready.
It’s too soon.
Too damn soon to lose the woman who has raised me and loved me—the woman who has turned into my whole world.
“It’s going to be o-okay,” Mom wheezes softly, her voice so low I have to strain to hear it.
