Page 54 of Waiting for a Prince
“All right,” Mark acquiesced. The look of relief on Sam’s face was palpable. “Just close your eyes and rest quietly. It won’t be long now.” Sam gave him a careful nod and closed his eyes. Mark sat back in his seat, his gaze fixed on the wall clock. He tried to shut down his thoughts but it wasn’t happening.
All he wanted right then was answers.
Chapter Nineteen
Mark openedthe front door to his flat and let them in. Sam had been very subdued all the way home. Mark supposed some of that might be due in part to the late hour, not to mention the headache. When the doctor had examined Sam’s head and found a lump the size of a golf ball at the back of his head, it had suddenly become clear to Mark why his friend had been so out of it.
“The doctor said you can take two painkillers before you go to bed,” he reminded Sam as they walked into the living room. “Do you want them now?”
Sam stared at him uncomprehending. “I… I don’t understand.”
Mark became still. “You’ve had a couple of stitches in your head, and you’ve been disoriented since you turned up on my doorstep. You’re staying here tonight. No argument.”
Sam regarded him in silence for a moment and then nodded, once.
Mark switched the lamp on beside the sofa before going to the kitchen cabinet where he kept his first aid box and various medical supplies. He pressed out two paracetamols into his palm and then filled a glass with water. Sam was perchedawkwardly on the edge of the seat cushion. Mark put down the glass and tablets, grabbed a cushion, and placed it at one end of the sofa.
“Okay, take these.” He handed the tablets to Sam who swallowed them dry with a grimace, before taking two large gulps of water. “Now lie down, please.” Sam looked up at him questioningly, but Mark fixed him with a firm stare. Sighing, Sam stretched out on the sofa on his side, and Mark pulled off his trainers. Then he sat on the floor beside Sam, hugging his knees.
I need to know what the hell is going on.
But Sam was in no state to answer questions. He could barely string two sentences together.
There was nothing for it but to wait.
“I’ll be in the armchair over there, okay?” When Sam’s breathing hitched, Mark took his hand in his. “I’m not going to leave you.”
Sam swallowed. “But… I promised I’d tell you?—”
“And you will,” Mark assured him. “But not right now. The best thing you can do is sleep.” He stared at Sam. “The doctor told you the same thing. And I’ll be here if there’s any change.” He gave Sam another hard stare. “Eyes, Sam. Close them.”
Sam managed a brief chuckle. “Bossy.”
A moment later, his breathing changed, becoming more even, and Mark knew he was asleep.
He got up off the floor and sat in the armchair, raising the footrest.
What on earth did he do to warrant such violence?
Sam’s black eye flashed in his mind.
Was that Rebecca too?
He couldn’t stifle his yawn, and then he remembered the time.
I need to sleep too.
Sam was safe. And Mark was going to make sure he stayed that way.
Sam struggled to escape from a dream of pain and panic, and when he opened his eyes, he realized the pain was real.
God, my head.
He sat upright, moving gingerly as he swung his legs around and leaned against the seat cushions.
Where am I?
Then he remembered. Mark.
