Chapter 42
Showered and dressed in the soft pants and shirt Ivy had found, I was back in bed, utterly exhausted while Ivy went off in search of food.
I didn’t tell her about the puking thing because, despite the round of throwing up my guts, I was hungry.
I had no idea how I knew that when the knock at the door came, it wasn’t Ivy, but some inherent sense told me that it was Caden.
A disconcerting mix of anticipation and dread surfaced in me.
I wanted to see him, yet I didn’t—the latter for a multitude of reasons, but mostly because I wanted him to be here.
I wanted him to be here for me, and that was wrong. I knew that, and I still wanted it, which was one of the reasons he shouldn’t be here.
And the other reason? I knew how he was likely going to look at me. After seeing what I looked like and then throwing up my guts, I really didn’t want to face his mournful gaze.
Caden entered, and I focused on either his chest or his legs. He’d changed. Gone was the black shirt, replaced by a pale blue one, though his jeans were still dark. Maybe he’d showered, too.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, stopping just inside the doorway.
“Better.” I fiddled with the bedspread, finding a stray thread and tugging at it. “The shower really helped. Now I just need to get the million knots out of my hair.”
“Do you think you can eat something?”
My empty stomach rumbled despite my praying to the porcelain gods for a small eternity earlier. “I think so.”
“Good.” I saw his legs move back toward the doorway, and then he returned, carrying a tray.
I sat up gingerly. Or at least I started to sit up, but the stiffness around my ribs protested once more.
“Here.” The King placed the tray on a small table that sat behind the couch. “Let me help.” He reached for me—
My body recoiled as it had been trained to do when hands that could become claws or fists got too close. I tried to stop it, but it was a reflex beyond my control.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Caden said.
“I know.” I closed my eyes and then opened them. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t, Brighton. Remember?” His voice was soft. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Okay?”
I drew in a deep breath. “Yeah.”
“Do you want me to help you sit up, or do you want to do it yourself?” he asked. “I’m hoping you’ll let me because I don’t want to see you in pain.”
I glanced at him and saw that all those thick, golden strands were pulled back from his face, and the whole situation struck me as funny even if I didn’t laugh.
The King of all the Summer fae was serving me soup in bed.
Weird.
“You don’t have to do this,” I told him, lifting my gaze to his face. His expression was devoid of any emotion. “You don’t owe me—”
“Did you forget that I can scent your emotions?” Caden interrupted, and Christ, I sort of had. “That I know what you’re feeling? That I knew the whole time I was in here earlier?”
“Okay. Do you want a gold sticker or something? The kind with a little smiley face on it?”
He cracked a grin. “God, how I missed your attitude.”
I frowned.
“I know you think I’m here because I feel guilt or a responsibility to you. I don’t even have to have my ‘super special fae abilities’ to know that. You said it, but I can feel it. Your distrust of my motives, and your fear that I pity you is like burnt rubber.”
My frown started to increase. “Now I really do feel like I need to apologize for offending your sensitive nostrils.”
One eyebrow cocked. “I need you to understand something, Brighton. I’m here right now because I want to be.
I’m here because I need to be—let me finish,” he said when I opened my mouth.
“That need is not drawn from some sense of guilt or remorse. Don’t get me wrong, I feel a whole lot of that, but it is not what drives my actions. ”
“Then what does?” I challenged, feeling the prickle of irritation, which was far better than anything else I was feeling.
I latched on to it, wrapping the anger around me like the fuzziest, softest blanket.
“You’re engaged, Caden. Something you failed to tell me before you fucked me, both literally and figuratively. ”
“I did not fuck you. Not literally. You did not fuck me.”
“Oh, okay. What then? We made love?” I coughed out a harsh laugh. “Pretty sure you don’t make love when you’re going to marry someone else.”
Caden’s jaw hardened. “This is not the time to talk about this.”
“Damn right,” I snapped, pushing myself upright because arguing while lying prone in a bed really made me feel like I was at a disadvantage.
It cost me, though. The flare of pain told me it was time to investigate that pill bottle that had been sitting on the nightstand after I’d stepped out of the shower.
“There’s no point talking about any of this at all. ”
“Oh, there’s a whole lot of points for why we need to talk about this.” Making a sound under his breath, he stepped forward and then halted. “Can I help you?”
“No.” I moved again, gasping. I slumped back, my heart pounding from the exertion of sitting up and failing.
Caden crossed his arms. “Do you not want me to help because you don’t want to be touched or because you’re angry with me.”
Both, but mostly the angry part at this point. I was being ridiculous. To eat, I needed to sit up. And I needed to eat because I was hungry, and I needed to get my strength back. “Fine. Whatever. You can help me.”
“You sure?”
I shot him a dark look that promised murder.
He smiled at me, and it was a real one. The kind that softened the beauty of his face and brought fire to his amber eyes.
My breath caught.
I hated myself.
Caden chuckled under his breath, but then he moved toward me. I braced myself, but when Caden carefully slid an arm under my shoulders, I didn’t freak, so bonus points there. He lifted me up, helping me lean against the fluffed pillows.
“Thank you,” I muttered, about as gracious as a spoiled child.
“You’re very welcome.”
Caden backed off, retrieving the food. “Luce wanted you to start with something light.” He placed it down, and with its little, sturdy legs, the tray was the perfect height. “It’s chicken soup with rice mixed in, and Luce said if you tolerate this well, we can move onto something more substantial.”
Staring down at the bowl, I realized there was cutlery.
God, when was the last time I’d even used silverware?
I could almost see the stewed beef staining the tips of my fingers.
I started to reach for the spoon but stopped when I became aware of my arm shaking.
Tremors coursed throughout my entire body.
I stared at the bowl, unable to move for several moments. The fear was irrational. I knew I could eat with no problem, but the emotion was so potent it choked me.
Heat crawled up my neck, and I looked over at Caden, expecting to see him watching me, expression haunted.
He wasn’t.
Caden wasn’t watching me at all. Instead, he was over at the small table, pouring a glass of the berry water.
Sweet relief swept through me. He wasn’t anywhere near me, and while I suspected that he’d done that on purpose, I didn’t care. The tremors lessened, and when I finally picked up the spoon, it wasn’t like I’d forgotten it.
A little of the broth spilled as I lifted the utensil, but at the first taste, I closed my eyes. It didn’t hurt, and it was so good.
I ate.
Caden stayed back, silent as he turned on the TV. I had no idea what he was watching because he had the volume turned down low, but he appeared engrossed in it.
At least that was what I thought until I placed the spoon in the empty bowl, and he turned immediately. “Thirsty?”
Belly warm and full, I nodded.
Walking over to me, Caden set the drink on the nightstand, within my reach. “I’m going to grab the tray,” he announced, doing just that. Placing it on the table, he then returned to sit in the chair that was next to the bed.
I stared at him for several moments and then picked up my glass, taking a sip. “So…” I drew the word out.
“Yes?”
“Are you just going to sit there?”
“Yes.”
I looked at him. “Why?”
Caden leaned back, hooking one leg over the other. He looked completely at ease. “Because I want to.”
“What if I don’t want you here?”
“Then I’ll leave.”
I stared at him pointedly.
A grin appeared. “But you don’t want that.”
I started to ask why he thought that, but it was true. Only because I didn’t want to be alone. I’d spent enough time in that crypt by myself.
That’s what I told myself.
But also, I was…afraid to go to sleep. Part of it was the nightmares I was sure would find me, but a lot of it had to do with my mother.
Things were always the hardest for her in the mornings, especially when she had her spells where she had no idea where she was, or when she believed she was still trapped with those fae.
What if that happened to me?
Shoving those fears aside wasn’t exactly easy. “Aren’t you tired?” I asked, wanting to distract myself.
He shook his head. “I feel more awake than I have in centuries.”
“Well…” I placed the glass back on the nightstand. “You were under a dark spell for a lot of it, so…”
“True.” Humor danced in his eyes, which was something I’d never thought to see when time under the Queen’s spell was referenced. “Is there anything I can get you?”
I thought about that. “A comb? I think there’s one in the bathroom.”
Caden rose, retrieving the comb. Instead of handing it over, he did what he’d done with the glass, placing it on the nightstand.
Murmuring my thanks, I picked it up, but the moment I attempted to lift my arm to my head, I knew it wasn’t going to work.
I sighed. “Who would’ve thought that broken ribs would be such a pain.”
“Anyone who has had broken ribs,” he replied.
“Have you?”
“More times than I can count.”
“Really?” Disbelief filled me as I thought about what Tink had said and also…something that Aric had said about Caden, giving the impression that the King had been a bit of a playboy in his day. Actually, Tink had said the same thing once.