Page 118 of Power Play

Achingly tender.

Unbelievably kind.

My breath catches in my chest as I stare at him.

He stayed this entire time.

He’s folded himself onto the couch, in clothes that look far from comfortable, so he can wait around and check on me.

I know I told him I’d be happy if he was here when I woke up, but actuallydoingit is something I wasn’t prepared for.

I move toward him until he’s close enough for me to reach. I touch his shoulder gently, not wanting to startle him, but he jolts awake. Sits up straight and jerks his head to the left then the right until his eyes settle on me.

“What’s wrong?” He rests his hands on my shoulders, touching me as if he thought I was a part of his dreams. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I brush my fingers over his jaw and the beard he hasn’t shaved in months. “I can’t sleep anymore.”

“What do you need? Water? Food? A shower?”

“I was on my way to get water then discovered the giant ogre sitting in my living room.”

“C’mere.” Liam heaves a deep breath, strong arms banding around my waist until I fall into his lap. I snuggle into his chest, welcomed by the scent of cologne and laundry detergent and the faint trace of sweat clinging to his button-up shirt. “How did you sleep?”

“Really well. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.”

“How’s your head?”

“Are you only a fan of Twenty Questions when it concerns someone else?”

“When it concerns your health, yes.”

“My head is better. I’m still sensitive to light and sound, but I?—”

Liam clicks off the lamp on the table next to us, plunging the room in shadows without a second thought. “How’s that?”

I bite back a smile at his thoughtfulness and rest my hand right above his heart. It’s racing a mile a minute, a ferocious beat that has me curious what he’s thinking about.

“Perfect,” I say, because it is.

“I have water for you. And your medicine, which, according to the emergency nurse hotline, you need to be taking if you want to prevent future migraines. It’s only fifty-six percent effective, but that’s a hell of a lot better than taking nothing, believe it or not. Doris gave me a fucking earful for not being on your ass about your pills.”

“You called the emergency nurse hotline?”

“Yeah. Asked them what I’m supposed to do and how I can take care of you. I took a lot of notes. I’ll show you when the light isn’t triggering. My handwriting is chicken scratch, but you’ll get the idea. I also got your prescription refilled and delivered so you’re covered for the next few months.”

It feels like someone wraps a hand around my heart and squeezes unbearably tight, not letting go. I’m glad the lights are off, because otherwise he’d see the tears in my eyes and think I’m hurting when, really, I’m so ridiculously happy.

No one’s taken care of me when I’ve been sick before.

It’s always been an inconvenience, as if Iplannedto be in pain at a certain time.

I’ve had to fend for myself, wallowing in bed for twenty-four to forty-eight hours not because I’m stubborn and helpless, but because I’m too exhausted to make myself something to eat. Too worn out and lacking the energy I need to be a fully functioning human.

But Liam is here.

Holding me after leaving the arena, and that feels like itmeanssomething.

It has weight and importance, a significance I’m going to stew over when he leaves.

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