“They look flat.You’d be more comfortable with different ones.I’ll order some.”
“That’s not necessary.I’m being released tomorrow,” I remind him.
“I’ll get more for you.”
“I don’t?—”
But he’s already walking to the empty hospital bed next to mine and grabbing the pillow.He fluffs it and tucks it behind my head.
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
“Of course,” he says happily.
He seems so happy to be taking care of me.It’s weird, a foreign concept for me.Growing up, I was always the one taking care of myself.
“You can go home.Get some rest,” I suggest.
You’re testing him,my subconscious whispers.You want to see if he’ll leave like everyone else.
He settles on the chair beside my bed.“No, I’m fine here,”
“That chair can’t be comfortable.”
“It’s fine.”
“So am I.You don’t have to stay.If I need anything, I’ll call one of the nurses.
“I help you.”
“But you don’t have to,” I argue.
“I want to.You’re my mate.Taking care of you and anything you need is part of it.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is that part of it?”
“It just is.Fated mates means more than being partners or husband and wife.It’s more than love.It’s an unbreakable bond.At least from my side.”
“How can you be so sure?People change their minds all the time.Things change.Feelings change.”
“This won’t.It’s a constant.”
“So you’re always going to follow me around, fluffing my pillows and whatnot?”
“I’d like to do more than that for you.”
“Sex,” I say flatly.
He blinks.“Yes, but not just that.I want to take care of all of your needs.I want to feed you, provide for you.I’ll take care of you when you’re sick and do whatever I can to cheer you up when you’re down.Hell, I hope you’re never down around me.You should always be smiling and happy.”
“What if that’s not what I want?”
“Then I’ll change.I’ll be whatever you want.”
“No, I mean, what if I don’t want to be with you?”
