Page 53 of Behind the Scenes
But it was useless.Iwas useless. And I couldn’t fight it.
The last thing I felt before I drifted back to sleep was the brush of Harley’s cool hand against my forehead. I leaned into it, the feeling spreading down to my neck and body.
I had the urge to grab it, but that too proved to be too much effort.
Her lips kissed my forehead for a couple of seconds, then she was gone.
I couldn’t decipher how long I slept, only that I woke up a few times because of the sweat covering my body. Feeling so helpless was disgusting.
By the time I grabbed my phone, it was eleven. I sat up in bed with a splitting headache and looked over my messages. There weren’t as many as the day before, but still enough that I had my work cut out for me.
I feel like shit.
But work was work. And I needed to get it done. It didn’t matter if I was on my deathbed; this was my life, and I had responsibilities.
I read a message that had come from Harley.
Rest up. I’ll be back sometime at lunch to see you, my love.
Ugh.That same heart-fluttering feeling washed through me.
But so did my conversation with Ana the night before.
Harley had a shitty childhood. That was probably what had turned her into what she became.
Sometimes the way of the world was to kill or be killed.
I believed the rumors. It was likely Harley who had killed them after having to take years and years of their abuse. Fuck knows what they’d done to her.
But even if I was sure of it, it didn’t answer my questions. It only added more.
It seemed like nothing would stop my burning curiosity.
Or my want for her.
Shit.
I messaged her back.
No need.
I didn’t need her to babysit me. And I was way less likely to do what I needed to get done if she came back. Her reply was quick.
You’re up? I’ll have someone send you some food and medicine. Don’t strain yourself.
I’m fine.
I felt you. You might not have had a fever when I left, but I still think you should take something. Just to be safe.
My fingers paused over the screen.What do I even say to that?No one in my life had ever taken care of me like this before.
It was… more than slightly uncomfortable. There had been many a time in my life when Iwantedsomeone towantto take care of me like this.
Like my parents. As a kid, when I wanted their attention, I used to fake being sick to spend more time with them.
And, of course, when I was younger, I dreamed of a partner who would come and sweep me off my feet, though I kept thosedeep, dark thoughts to myself when I was alone in bed and vowed they would never see the light of day.
After all, I was the strongest woman I knew.
