Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
“You...need a shave.”
“Daphne. Fuck.” His big hands swallow my fragile one. For a moment he presses our twined fingers to his forehead, hiding his face behind our hands.
I swallow. The sand is mostly washed from my mouth. Time to ask the hard questions.
“How long?” I ask again.
He raises his head. His eyes are rimmed red. “I just told you—”
When I shake my head, he falls silent.
“How long...do I have left?”
He presses my hand to his face again. “The doctors...fuck.” His voice is muffled. “They don’t know. They say it’s your third relapse.”
“Yes.” I remember the first two quite vividly.
“I read your medical history. Daphne…” He bows his head almost to the bed. His voice comes muffled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I set my right hand on his head and stroke his thick hair. Each movement is painful, like my very bones and blood protest.
“It was in remission.” The inside of my mouth tastes bitter. I hate talking about my disease. My old adversary. So many battles lost and won. “I wanted to forget I was ever an invalid. I didn’t want to live like that.”
It’s more than that, too, though I’m not even sure if I can explain it. I take another long sip of water before trying again. He deserves an explanation. “And it’s like, when I’m healthy, I can forget this part of me even exists. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism or maybe I really believed in my heart I was done with it.”
Logan’s face is still pained, though. “But everything that we did...everything I did...I hurt you, Daphne. The games we played...”
“No,” I say fiercely. Is that what he’s thinking? “I don’t want you to ever regret our time together. I don’t.”
It doesn’t take away the agony in his dark eyes. “What have I done to you?” he whispers.
“Not you. I was born this way.” This was always my destiny. Doesn’t he get that? The course of my life was written in my DNA before my heart’s first beat.
Battleman’s. The disease that took my mother’s life. It lives in me now, waging war in a million of my cells. My body is a battlefield. It always was. And now I’ve gone and dragged the person I love most into the trenches with me.
I drop my head back to the pillow and close my eyes.
A male nurse comes in to fuss over me, and Logan retreats to the corner. I’ve had a thousand visits from nurses over my almost thirty years, but never with a dark presence brooding in the shadows. My skin prickles with awareness as the nurse checks my vitals, asks me questions, and prompts me to eat.
“She’ll eat,” Logan interjects, making the man jump. The nurse must have forgotten Logan, but I didn’t. I feel Logan’s gaze like a touch. “I’ll make sure of it.”
The nurse still has his hand on my bare back. Logan glares at it until the man snatches it away.
“The doctor will be in soon,” the nurse assures me, and scuttles away.
“Did you have to scare the poor man?”
“He liked touching you.” Logan prowls back to his seat by my bed. He carefully replaces my gown and plumps my pillows—all the little chores the nurse forgot in his rush to get away.
I laugh softly. As if anyone would want me like this, a frail bag of bones. “He’s just doing his job.” I sigh as I relax back onto the pillows.
Logan grunts but doesn’t argue. He spends an inordinate amount of time smoothing my hair from my brow. His touch is featherlight on my forehead, brushing my hair back from my face, applying salve to my chapped lips.
The look on his face makes my breath catch. Concern mixed with tenderness mixed with heat. At least there’s still one man who finds me attractive, even like this.
But when he leans down to press a soft kiss to my forehead, his lips are careful. Chaste.
“The hospital should hire you,” I try to joke.
“Daphne.” Logan looks more serious when he takes a seat. “I want to take over your treatment.”
I blow out a breath. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Please, I’m close to a breakthrough. You’ve studied Battleman’s, you know—”
“All my life. And I’ve gotten nowhere.”
“You’re close. I can take your research—”
“My father’s research. The patents you stole—”
“It was my research from the start.” He forces himself to lower his voice, visibly reining in his temper. “Look, I don’t want to fight. I just want to get you well.”
“It’s like my mother and father all over again.” Tears spill from my eyes.
“No. I’m not going to let you...fuck, please. You’re not going to—” But he can’t finish the sentence.
I look away from him and out the window, the grayscape hallowed in anemic light. “It was always going to be this way.” And now I’m just supposed to accept that Logan is going to be a casualty with me?