Page 46 of Anchor

A knock comes at the door and I open my mouth to snarl at them when I recognize the dark, wavy hair. Of course, the last time I saw her she was in a torn, soaked dress the same dark blue of her eyes. She looks as beautiful as I remembered, even in a shapeless hospital gown.

“Hey,” she says.

I sit up in the bed and hope I don’t sound like an eager fuckin’ teenager. “Hey.”

She walks hesitantly to my bedside with her lip clamped between her teeth. My heart hammers in my chest, the first sign of life I’ve had since the boat exploded, as she sits down next to me. The bed shifts with her weight and I have to knot the bed sheets on the other side to keep from pulling her close.

“How are you?” she asks, pausing the gnawing on her lip enough to say the words and then her teeth take hold again.

“I’m—” I stop to wet my own lips to keep from tasting hers. The few kisses we’d shared didn’t necessarily mean anything to her. They hadn’t to me at the time, or so I thought. Now, I’m not so sure. Do I want them to? She damn sure deserves better than me. “I’m good. Doctor says I should make a full recovery.”

“That’s good news,” she says.

“How about you? Gonna make it?”

“Looks like it,” she says, shifting slightly on the bed so that our legs brush. She takes no outward notice of it, but my body goes electric. “How’s the hospital treating you? Still hate them?”

“I don’t know,” I say, my eyes on her lips. “It’s not so bad right now.”

Her cheeks turn pink and her eyes drop to the thin comforter. “There’s the Gabe I know,” she says.

“Been missin’ him, huh?” I tease.

Then she looks back up at me, and the smile fades from my lips and it becomes difficult to breathe.

“What if I was?” she asks, her voice soft.

I swallow, then say, “Then why didn’t you come here sooner?”

She laughs. “I guess I didn’t want to seem like a crazy person. I didn’t want you to tell me to get lost.”

I scoot over on the bed to make room for her, noting the dark shadows under her eyes. “I’d never tell you to get lost,” I say and then tug on her arm. “Lie down with me.”

She resists for a second and then caves. “You been able to sleep?” she asks as she reclines next to me. She takes care not to bump my wounds and then finally lays her head on my shoulder.

The bed isn’t huge and the bars are pressing into my back, but having her next to me is the most comfortable I’ve been in a long time.

“No,” I say when I remember she asked me a question. “Not well and I hate medicine. If another person comes at me with a syringe of sedatives, I might have to tackle them to the ground to defend myself.”

She laughs. “So you’ve been terrorizing the nursing staff.”

The tension in my shoulders starts to dissolve and I relax into the bed. “I’d never do that,” I say with a grin.

Chloe turns on her side and rests her head on my shoulder. “Sure you wouldn’t.”

I fake-scoff. “I don’t think you’ve known me long enough to make those kinds of judgments, thanks.”

She blinks up at me. “You’re right.”

My smile fades. “I didn’t mean—”

“No,” she interrupts with a giggle. “I don’t mean that. I mean I don’t know you. I mean we survived this horrible thing and I feel closer to you than I’ve ever felt with anyone.” She pauses, her eyes widening with surprise and she glances away nervously. “I mean, not that we’re close or anything, um, I mean that—”

I cover her mouth with my hand and she stops speaking, her gaze coming back to mine. “You don’t have to explain,” I say, my voice low.

“I don’t?”

Her hair feels like silk in my hands and I murmur, “Mmhmm,” as I drape it over her dainty shoulders. She’s a delicately made woman for someone so fierce. Remembering her guarding me with a gun makes me smile.