Page 114 of The Wrong Play

I just wanted it to be over.

A key sounded in the lock, and I couldn’t even muster the energy to look at the door.

The door clicked open.

I felt him before I saw him.

That ridiculous, overwhelming presence. That force of nature that bulldozed his way into my life and refused to leave.

The bed dipped, and warm fingers smoothed over my cheek, tracing along my skin like he was memorizing every inch of me.

“Hey, Riley-girl,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing, but laced with something deeper. Somethingworried.“You decide that Ethics wasn’t worth it anymore?”

I forced my eyes open.

He was staring down at me, his brows drawn tight, his jaw clenched. His hair was a mess—like he’d dragged his hands through it on the way over—and his hoodie was pulled on haphazardly, the strings uneven.

He looked…tense. Restless.Wrecked.

Overme.

My throat tightened.

“Jace…why are you here?”

My voice barely made it past my lips.

His hand curled into a fist on the blanket, his whole body tensing. “Better question—why the hell haven’t you told me you weren’t feeling good?”

I swallowed, my head pounding, my body so drained that even shifting on the bed sent a wave of exhaustion crashing through me. I tried to sit up, to prove I wasn’t as weak as I felt, but the second I moved, sharp pain lanced through my body, and I collapsed back onto the pillow, gasping.

Jace cursed, his hands hovering over me like he wanted todosomething, like he wanted tofixme. But there was nothing to fix.

This was just…me.

“Jace, you don’t have to be here,” I whispered, my voice weak.

His jaw clenched, his entire body going still.

The silence stretched, heavy and thick, and then?—

“Don’teversay something like that again.”

The words were quiet, but they were packed with so much frustration, so muchanger, that I couldn’t breathe.

I turned my face away, ashamed. I hated this. Hated feeling like this. Hated that he was seeing me like this.

“I’m just…tired,” I whispered.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. His eyes darkened, a storm raging behind them.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, voice low. “That’s why you’re stuck with me until you feel better.”

“Jace—”

“Nope. No arguments.” He shifted, stretching out on the bed beside me, bracing his head on his hand, his other arm draping across my stomach like he wasstaking a claim. Like he wasnever leaving. “You’re mine, Riley. That means I take care of you. End of discussion.”

The room was quiet.

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