Page 72 of Heart of Stone
His hand supports my back as I sip the water, strong and steady. He's shed his cut, and his white T-shirt stretches across his shoulders as he leans in to check my temperature again.
"How did you know?" I ask, letting him take the glass. "That we were sick?"
"Duck." He sets the water aside, his hand lingering on mine. "He was worried when you didn't answer his texts about work. Said you never miss checking in."
"You had him spying on me?"
"No." His voice is soft. "He cares about you. All of us do."
I close my eyes against a fresh wave of nausea. "I can't do this right now."
"Do what?"
"This. Us. The conversation we need to have."
"I know." His thumb traces circles on my palm. "I'll be here until you're better, then we can work through what we need to."
I close my eyes, exhausted by the thought of arguing. "Until the next time the club needs you?"
His hand tightens on mine. "I fucked up. I know that. But I'm learning."
"Learning what exactly?"
He brushes hair from my face. "That being strong doesn't mean being alone. The club is family, Andi. And I should have asked them to look after what needed doing rather than ghosting you when you needed me."
I want to argue. Want to tell him it's too late. But his touch is so gentle and cool against my flushed skin.
"I called in reinforcements." He nods toward the hallway where I can hear Ginger's voice mixing with TV sounds. "Steel's making a pharmacy run. Duck's bringing soup."
"Duck doesn't make soup."
His smile is soft. "No, but Maggie does. And she's been wanting an excuse to mother you for months."
Tears prick my eyes. "We don't need?—"
"Yeah, you do." He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand cool against my cheek. "And that's okay. Everyone needs help sometimes."
"Not me." But even as I say it, I know I'm lying.
"Especially you." His thumb brushes away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. "Let me be here, Andi. Let me prove I can be what you need."
"And what's that?"
He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. "Someone who puts his family first."
Family.
The word hits like a punch to the gut.
I want to argue. Want to hold on to my anger and hurt. But I am so tired. So damn tired of doing everything alone.
"I can't do this right now," I whisper.
He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Then don't. Rest. I've got this."
And the thing is? I believe him.
I sigh, closing my eyes.
