Page 14 of The Drummer's Heart

I cleared my throat. “Excuse me?”

“You were talking in your sleep again.”

My stomach dropped. “What was I saying?”

Atticus smirked. “I’d repeat it, but I don’t want to embarrass you.”

I did occasionally talk in my sleep, mostly when I was stressed. The problem was, I had no way of knowing whether he was telling the truth. This was a game Atticus used to play with me. There were times when I actually had talked in my sleep; he’d recorded me to prove it. But he’d also occasionally told me I was saying crazy things when I wasn’t. And later, he’d admit he’d just been messing with me. I didn’t know what to believe now.

“I’m gonna choose to believe you’re lying and go on with my day.”

“You do that, Nicole.” He grinned mischievously. “You do that.”

But while Atticus brewed some coffee, an unsettled feeling came over me. I’d had a lot of inappropriate thoughts swirling through my head while watching him sleep last night. It was conceivable that some of those might’ve come out in my dreams.

Atticus handed me a steaming cup of joe. “Here you go.” He winked. “Be careful. It’s smoking hot.”

Smoking hot.Did I call him that in my sleep?The mindfuck continues…“Thank you.” I took a sip and realized it was exactly the way I liked my coffee. Medium cream with one sugar.Despite everything, he’d remembered. I wished that fact didn’t hurt.

He crossed his arms, his stare incendiary as he watched me drink it. “What’s on the agenda today?” he finally asked.

I set my mug on the counter. “When Mimi wakes up, we need to try to get her out of bed and put her in a chair to sit, even for just a little bit.”

“Why does she hate sitting so much?”

“It hurts her legs and back, but the PT says she has to get out of bed to prevent bedsores and to improve her circulation. So, we pretty much have to force her.”

He nodded. “Whatever it takes, we’ll get her sitting.”

I was so lucky to have Atticus here with me. Lifting Mimi alone would’ve been next to impossible.

When he and I wheeled the chair into Mimi’s room a little while later, a look of fear crossed her face. “You’re not gonna make me sit, are you?”

Atticus leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Afraid so, beautiful. But I promise you don’t have to sit for long. I hope you trust that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

Those words stung. I could’ve sworn Atticus had promisedmethe same thing once.

Mimi winced as Atticus lifted her off the bed, as if she were light as a feather. I could never have lifted her myself.

I steadied the wheelchair. “Mimi, hold on to Atticus. You’ll be fine. I’m right here to receive you.”

He set her down gently in the chair.

She wailed in pain. “Ow!”

“I know it hurts, but you’re doing the damn thing, Mimi. I’m proud of you.” Atticus grabbed a pillow and placed it behind her back. He turned to me. “Can you grab another pillow from the living room? Just any of the ones on the sofa.”

“Sure.” I ran to find one.

When I returned with it, he placed it between her legs.

After about a minute, she stopped complaining of pain.

He patted her thigh. “Better?”

Despite the lingering look of pain on my grandmother’s face, she nodded.

“How did you know to do that with the pillows?” I asked him.

---