Page 120 of Meet Me In The Dark
Still confused, but too drugged to argue, I slide over and watch with wide eyes as he climbs into the hospital bed with me.
“I smell,” I tell him, glancing down at the blue hospital gown while embarrassment finally climbs its way up my throat. “I haven’t been able to change yet.”
Rolling his eyes, he shifts me gently into his side. “I work out with you, remember? You’ve smelled worse.”
“Oh, be still my beating heart.”
It’s with my head on his chest that the relief floods my body like oxygen.
The tears come hot and fast, spilling down my cheeks before I can stop them. He doesn’t mention it, even though I’m sure he can feel the moisture soaking through his shirt.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted chocolate,” he says, reaching for the snacks, “or chips, so I got both.”
I sniffle and try to compose myself. “Both are good. I’m high on drugs and hungry.”
He turns the volume up on the TV. “I figured.”
I swallow, trying to stop the crack in my voice when I say, “Thank you… for staying.”
Brushing a thumb over my cheek, he squeezes me closer. “You know, you’re very sweet when you’re all drugged up.”
“You’re very sweet when you’re not driving me into the headboard,” I tell him, feeling the blush bloom across my cheeks.
After a long moment of silence, I rest my chin on his chest to look at him.
“What’s up, sweetheart?”
I giggle. Actually giggle. “You called me sweetheart.”
“I’ve called you worse.”
I bite my dry bottom lip. “We’re going to have sex again.”
His gaze flits back to the TV screen. “Is that so?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, when we can be sure I won’t hurt you.”
My smile falters. “You didn’t hurt me. My body hurt me.” I inhale a shaky breath, hating the burn in my chest. “Sometimes the hardest part of living in a body like mine is knowing the pain doesn’t always need a reason. It just shows up and takes whatever it wants.”
His brows pinch together, and I’m not sure who looks more in pain right now, but I feel the reassuring pressure of his hand on my back.
“Julian?”
His throat bobs on a swallow. “Yeah?”
“If I died right now, would you tell people I was hot? Like, would you exaggerate a bit? I want to be remembered fondly.”
He stares down at me. “You’re not dying.”
“But if I was.”
“Yes. I’d tell them you were drop-dead gorgeous, and there would be no exaggeration involved.” He reaches over and nudges my foot with his. “Anything else?”
“Yes. If I don’t make it…”
“You’re not dying, Celeste.”
