14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Kat
Oh, God, everything hurt. Fuck hospital beds so hard. And FUCK my HAND, man. I groaned. I heard a soft chuckle from above and behind me.
“I’m never drinking tea again,” I groaned softly. He laughed even harder.
“Please, Kat. You’re becoming just as big of a sucker for a proper cuppa as any Brit around here.
Maybe you’ll even learn how to make one, soon,” he teased.
I groaned again, but it was a different sort of groan.
I rubbed my cheek against his soft shirt, wondering where he found all these soft clothes.
I thought maybe the drugs were still affecting me.
“I love your accent,” I said sleepily into his chest. He laughed again. Ah, fuck. Damn drugs. That WAS an inside thought, but I DID know that it was coming out before it splatted all over my dignity.
“And I hate drugs,” I grumbled. He laughed even harder. He nudged me gently, though.
“Speaking of, how is your hand feeling? Do you want more of the meds? I’m sorry you woke up that way last night, if you remember.
I knew you’d want to try to come off them as soon as you could, and you fell asleep.
I thought it might be okay. That was my fault,” he admitted, sounding guilty and a little ashamed. I looked up at him.
“No, you were right. I appreciate you trying. And it hurts like a bitch, but I’ll be okay.
It’s a manageable bitch, not a feisty one,” I joked.
I tried to sit up, struggling a little because I didn’t have a hand to use to push myself up.
But hands at my waist easily pulled me up before I could even register that I was failing badly.
Unfortunately for my sanity, this new position gave me an up close and personal situation with a warm and hard…
situation. At my back. I just ignored it.
It was normal in the mornings. I DID know that.
Not everything was about me. I’d been so lost in my attempting-to-not-be-dirty thoughts that I jumped when his voice was at my ear.
“You love my accent, do you, darling?” he asked, completely dropping his second nature polished English. He sounded like the little boy from my memories. He sounded like the Henry I got in his most uncontrolled moments. And I needed to not be thinking about these things.
“Mhm, yeah, but I think Milo’s is better,” I teased. He faked a gasp.
“Rude, Katherine!” he said primly. I laughed. Then groaned. Even laughing hurt my poor body. These damn beds were not made comfortably enough for people who were injured. Which, you knew, were the only people that would be in them to begin with.
“I just want to take a shower,” I fake sobbed, dramatically dropping my head to his chest again.
“Why can’t you? Don’t they make little baggies for the casts? Oh, your shoulder,” he said, answering his own question. He looked thoughtful for a moment.
“If you wanted, I’m sure we could figure something out for you to be able to take a shower.
It might be duct tape, but I know you and your hot showers, you must be ready to kill somebody,” he teased.
I didn’t want to think about him and showers.
That was no bueno. Well, mucho bueno. Too bueno.
That was the problem. God, I hoped my inside thoughts were staying inside thoughts.
I snuck a peek at him from my squeezed shut eyes, but he was just waiting and looking at me like I may still be high. Well, I may still be high. So very hard to tell.
“I really do want a shower. But today is not that day. I have a ton of stuff to do,” I hedged, wanting to take him up on that offer more than anything.
But all I could think about was pulling him in there with me, water soaking into his hair, making it darker, curlier, wilder.
Soaking through his t-shirt. Soaking- yep I needed to stop thinking about that. Today was not that day.
I crawled my way out of my veritable nest I’d created in the night, noticing Henry hadn’t complained once. He had to have gotten too warm. He was a toasty motherfucker. But maybe I cooled him off. Who knew?
I groaned while trying to stretch out a little, wondering how long I’d have to wait for someone to come and give me my last antibiotics before I could head back to the hotel. I needed to get washed up and back to work.
Henry had tea, toast, French toast, and a PA in the room in ten minutes flat, without me asking.
The man was magical. My IV running once more, I eyeballed the food, checking with my stomach to see if it was being a pouty bitch after the drugs or if it would let me dig into that brioche French toast.
“I figured you were joking about the tea. And the toast was for if your stomach was still upset. And the French toast if it wasn’t,” he offered nervously.
I kissed him on the cheek and took all three from him.
I tried to peek in his container, to see what I’d be stealing a bite of in less than two seconds.
“I got an omelet, would you like a bite, Kat?” he asked teasingly. Well… what kind of omelet? This was important information, here.
“What kind of omelet?” I asked suspiciously. He laughed. Fair.
“Ham, swiss, green onion, peppers, spinach, with hollandaise on top,” he offered. Like that was normal. He had me until the hollandaise. I must’ve made a face.
“Just try it, I promise it’s good,” he said, offering me his fork. I hesitantly took the bite, and damn if he wasn’t right. I moaned.
“Holy shit that’s amazing,” I admitted. He smiled softly. I settled back on the bed—with a little assist getting up there—to eat my equally as amazing French toast. It was… nice. Very nice. Too nice. After I finished eating—after him, of course—I still had some time to wait before my IV was done.
“You don’t have to wait with me, you know. I’m okay,” I offered softly. He shook his head.
“I know, but I want to. Oh, and I wanted to ask- were those drugs a little better for you last night?” he asked tentatively, settling back against the elevated head of the bed.
“I don’t think I really forgot anything, per se. But it’s all very fuzzy. Did… I remember dragons. That’s crazy, right? Maybe they were worse than I thought,” I pondered, a little worried about how crazy I could’ve gotten if dragons were on the menu. He laughed.
“No, that’s not crazy. You demanded a story, and I know you like fantasy. I told you one about dragons,” he said softly, a flash of amusement showing in his eye. I groaned, letting my head thump back against the wall next to his.
“Oh, man. I’m sorry, Henry,” I said sincerely. There must’ve been a thousand other things he’d rather have been doing last night. I looked down at my hands. My stupid, fucked up hands.
“Kat, it kept you calm and happy while you were going through something incredibly painful, even with the meds. I was glad I could help,” he said simply, letting his head fall to the side to look at me. I just shrugged, continuing to look down at my hands.
“I’m still sorry. I’m sure you would’ve rather been anywhere else last night,” I mumbled. Why was I like this? A normal person wouldn’t need support like this. A normal person wouldn’t keep drawing in the person they were trying to save from all this misery.
“I could’ve been anywhere else. But I DIDN’T want to be.
Kat, I would always rather be with you,” he offered.
Why was this so simple for him? Why did he feel the need to say these things to me, when he didn’t really want them?
I wished I could have this, but I couldn’t.
Not with him. And I didn’t want it with anyone else.
But luckily, I was saved from responding.
The PA was back to detach me, and I was free! I grabbed my tea and turned toward the door. But I couldn’t leave without acknowledging what Henry had done for me, whether he had wanted to or not.
“I-thank you. For staying with me. Taking care of me. I’m sorry you keep having to do that though. Please believe me when I say I’m trying to stop making that need to happen,” I said sincerely.
“Kat, I will always be there when you need me. I’ve told you that dozens of times, but apparently, it’s going to take about a dozen more to get through that stubborn skull of yours,” he said lightly.
I scowled at him. Then stuck my tongue out at him.
He held the door open for me to scoot under his arm.
“I’m not THAT stubborn,” I insisted.
His laughter followed me down the hallway.