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His head lifted, silhouetted in the gray pre-dawn light spilling through the curtained windows. He looked down at me with eyes I knew better than my own reflection. Tired. Alert. Terrified in the way only someone in love could be.
“You were grinding your teeth in your sleep,” he said. “Could’ve cracked a molar.”
I exhaled something that might’ve been a laugh. “Pain’s not exactly optional.”
“No, but motion is.”
I tried to sit up.
Will pressed a hand to my chest—firm but not harsh. “Don’t.”
“I need to—”
“What you need is to stay alive long enough to escape this damned country.”
I stared at the ceiling.
He didn’t move his hand.
“I hate being still,” I muttered.
“I know.”
“It makes me feel like I’ve already lost.”
“Then we lose together.” Will leaned in, his forehead brushing mine. “For a few minutes, can we just lie here and pretend we’re back home, in bed, craving fresh croissants and rich coffee?”
I closed my eyes and let that moment hold me, ground me against the ever-present pulsing of my shoulder.
The world was quiet except for the ticking of some unseen clock, the hum of a pipe in the wall, and the sound of his breath beside mine.
Until a knock at the door ruined all of it.
Sparrow’s voice slipped through—muffled but unmistakable. “Rise and shine, wounded prince. Planning waits for no man, even one who got himself ventilated.”
Will didn’t lift his head. I felt his smile against my chest where he’d rested his head.
“Still think I should’ve taken the bullet?” he asked.
I opened one eye. “You’d make a terrible patient.”
“That’s fair.”
He helped me sit up, slow and careful, supporting every inch of me like I was made of glass.
Maybe I was.
But if I cracked, it would be with him holding the pieces, and that gave me an odd sense of comfort and calm.
“We should get up. The others are—”
“You’re not going anywhere, sailor,” Will said, lifting himself off me to sit upright. “We can bring kitchen chairs in here and talk all you like, but your pretty ass is staying in this bed if I have to strap you down.”
Despite the pain, I grinned. “I can’t tell which I like better: you calling my ass pretty or threatening to strap me down.”
He shook his head through a chuckle. “When this is all over and your shoulder is healed, I’m going to punch you for that one.”
“Yes, sir. Punish me, please, sir. Whatever you want, sir.”