Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“I want that too.” My whisper was shaky, but each admission was becoming easier. Real. Future. It hovered there like a goal, something to reach for. I could have that. We could have it. “And you’re right. I have to live my own life. Stop caring what others think. Care more about what I want and need. Wear the damn corset. Hold your hand. Kiss you in a movie theater. Meet your friends. Sleep in your bed.”
“Yes to all of that.” Malik grinned broadly and tried to tug me closer, then winced. “Name the movie, baby, and I’ll be there.”
“I’m probably going to screw up—”
“And so am I. This is all new to both of us. We’re going to mess up, but the important thing is that we figure it out together.”
“Yeah.” I had a feeling things might be harder than he was making them sound, but right then, I wanted to believe. And if it was hard, so what? I’d done hard things before. I could do this too. “You really told your mom I’m special?”
“You are.” His eyes shone with so much emotion that I finally gave up and let him tug me onto the bed with him, very carefully avoiding his wires and bandages to gingerly rest my head on his shoulder.
“What if I’m a terrible boyfriend?”
“Not possible. You’re here, right? And you care about me, and I care about you. The rest will work itself out.” He kissed the top of my head, and my chest expanded like one of those plastic bears filled with honey, so much sweetness, probably more than I deserved, but I tried to drink it all in.
“I…I want to be the guy you seem to believe I am.”
“You are.” He tilted my head up for a soft kiss that made me want to believe every damn word he said.
“Coffee time!” And, of course, his mother chose right then to stride back into the room, voice artificially loud, a professor startling her sleepy class back to alertness. “Including for our patient. The doctor removed the no-food order.”
“I…ah…” I tried to leap up, but Malik held me fast, and finally, I gave up and stayed on the edge of his bed. “You can have the chair.”
“Thank you, darling.” Malik’s mother managed to act like there was nothing weird about where I was sitting as she passed out drinks from a paper carrier. “The little coffee shop in the lobby had the cutest special for spring. Grasshopper blended mocha. Seemed like something you might like.”
“Thank you,” I said as I accepted the cup, catching her gaze so she’d know I meant for so much more than the drink.
“It’s no bother.” She flipped her hand, but her eyes stayed serious, sending me a return message. “Anything for my Malik.”
“Same,” I said. I never wanted to let either of them down. And not only because she might slice me with a stiletto, but because against all odds, Malik believed in me, probably more than I believed in myself. I was going to make it my mission to prove myself worthy.
Chapter Thirty-One
Malik
“How’d you convince Avery to leave?” I blinked awake from an afternoon nap, surprised to find my mom alone in the visitor’s chair. The morning had been a parade of doctors and visitors like Duncan and Keely, and either I was more tired than I’d thought, or the nursing staff had put something extra in my IV because I’d drifted off shortly after lunch. A kind nurse had brought a second chair at one point in the morning, and Avery and my mother had appeared settled in for the long haul when I’d fallen asleep.
“Oh, I have my ways.” Laughing, my mother flitted her fingers like a witch casting a spell. “I promised Avery that if he’d go nap, I’d let him take the night shift.”
I groaned at that. Bad enough that she’d been in that hard chair all day. They both needed rest. “I don’t want him to have to stay here all night again.”
“Luckily, he won’t have to. You’re being discharged.” She gave a sneaky grin. “I, of course, tried to argue for them to keep you another night—”
“No way. I’m doing…” I stretched to prove my strength, then immediately regretted the movement and winced at the surge of rib pain. “Okay. I’m doing okay. I can manage.”
“Manage may be optimistic,” she said dryly. “But I told the doctor that you’d sleep better in a real bed. And between Avery and me, along with your other friends, we can make sure you rest. We’ll take good care of you.”
“I don’t need…” I drifted off as every argument I’d had with Avery about being babied came flooding back to me. It was okay to need some help, and apparently, my mother had assigned herself to a whole team of helpers, so why continue to fight it? “Well. Maybe a little caretaking.”