“I did hate you,” I murmur, and he cocks his head ever so slightly.
“I don’t think you did.”
I deflate. “Yeah. You’re too pretty to hate, Draco.”
He grins. “Right back at you, Hermione.”
“You’re not in your right mind, I don’t want you to say anything you’ll regret,” I add, pulling away. He doesn’t let me go—instead, he pulls me closer.
“I’m not scared to show you how I feel. Do you know the first thing I thought of when the wheels hydroplaned? When the brakes stopped working, when I saw the line of trees barreling toward us?” he asks, and I close my eyes briefly. He continues. “You. I thought about your eyes, and the way they remind me of honey. I thought about the feel of your skin, the way it’s so soft that I almost can’t feel anything. I thought about how, despite my hesitations, you’ve managed to do more for Gather in three weeks than I have in nearly a year.”
His words remind me of the email I saw—the email I wasn’t supposed to see.
He can see the hesitation on my face. “Did I say something wrong?” he asks, watching me.
His eyes aren’t really focusing on me—maybe now’s not the time to ask about the email. Once he’s fully conscious, fully back to being himself, he’ll put up more of a fight.
“No,” I answer, giving him a small smile. “Everything you said was wonderful.” I squeeze his hand. “You need rest, Anderson.”
I can’t fathom bringing the email up now—not when he’s so vulnerable. So, I plaster on a smile, tuck the covers underneath him, and then I hold his hand until he falls asleep—which takes all of two minutes.
Thank god for morphine.
42
Natalia
I leaveAnderson after he falls asleep, walking next door to Luca’s room. This will be harder in a way—seeing him so vulnerable. Shaking off the fear of losing him, I prepare for tears as I step inside, but as I enter, I hear Luca laughing hysterically.
“Stop, stop, I’m going to bust a stitch,” Luca squeals.
Nathan’s face is red with laughter, and he’s wheezing.
Seems like the morphine affects my brother just a tad differently.
I smile as I walk over. Luca does look better. Aside from one black eye, he looks fine. Nowhere near as bruised as Anderson. His lip wobbles when he sees me, and he reaches his arms out.
I bend down and sob hysterically.
“He’s high as a fucking kite,” Nathan says, grinning as he stands. “Good luck.” As he walks away, Luca pulls back and watches me with wild, unfocused eyes. I try not to laugh as he takes my hands dramatically, pulling them to his chest.
“I feel like we haven’t talked—like,actuallytalked—in weeks. How is my favorite person, my womb-mate, my platonic soulmate?”
I chuckle. “I’m fine,” I say skeptically. “You’re the one who was in a plane crash, Luca.”
He waves his hand. “Oh, psh. I’m fine. Tiny, cracked rib, no big deal. Besides, I knew I wouldn’t die.”
“Oh?”
He nods. “You forget, I’ve seen the best psychic in the world. I will live until I’m old and my balls are shriveled up into tiny raisins.”
I bark out a laugh. “I forgot about that phase.”
He lies back in bed and sighs. “Why is everything spinning?”
“Because you’re hopped up on morphine.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t feel like I’m on drugs. I just feel… happy.”
