“When does that happen?”
“Never.” My eyes slide shut as he strokes my hair back. “You’re my sunshine.”
The sentiment surprises me, and I want to look into his eyes, to see what he’s trying to tell me. But they won’t work, and everything is darkness.
It seems like only five minutes have passed when I’m gently shaken awake. “Leave me be. I won’t be late for school,” I mumble.
There’s a pause. “Well, I should hope not.”
Memory returns in a rush, and I stiffen. “Mac?”
“That’s me, baby. Close your eyes for a second.” I obey, and there’s a click. When I open them, the room is lit by the warm glow of a lamp. I look up at Mac, who’s hovering over me.
“What time is it?”
“Midnight. I needed to wake you.”
“Why?” I whine, sounding like a horrible two-year-old.
His lip twitches, but he looks too harrowed for it to turn into a smile. “Just to check you’re alright. You were groaning in your sleep. It’s time to take some painkillers. Do you need the bathroom?”
I consider that and nod. I start to move and groan. “Help me up?”
“Of course.”
He lifts me as gently as he can, but I’m still wincing by the time I’m standing upright. “Shit,” I say, resting my head on his shoulder.
He stiffens as if surprised, but then pushes my hair back gently. “Is it feeling much worse now?”
I nod and then reluctantly pull away. He helps me into the bathroom and is only banished when I issue a stern warning. “I’m fine. I’m not peeing in front of you.”
“You’ve done a lot of things in front of me.”
“Notthis.”
“Okay, but I’m standing outside the door.”
“Make sure it’s closed.”
I limp over, do my business, and then wash my hands in the sink. I look up, glad of the low light in the room, and grimace. I lookterrible. My hair is wild, scratches are red against my skin, and I’ve got the beginnings of a black eye that’s puffy and sore. I prod it experimentally and wince. I become aware of varioussore spots on my body, and when I touch my hair, I feel a lump on my skull.
I consider getting dressed but can’t bear the idea of putting those clothes on again. All of a sudden, I want a shower. I reach into the stall and start it.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Mac steps in. He’s removed his tie and jacket, and his face is drawn white with tiredness. “You want a shower?” he asks gently. His voice is low and intimate, as if he knows I can’t stand any loud voices right now. “I’ll stay in here in case you fall over, but I’ll turn my back.”
I frown and wince again when pain flares. Mac hovers and I gesture to the shower, wanting to smile but knowing it’s not a good idea for my bruised face. “Get in with me.”
“What?”
“Come on. I’ve seen you naked more than anyone else in this world.”
“Are you sure?”
“Because of what happened tonight?” I ask.
