Page 19 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
“Soooo tired,” he grumbles, squeezing his lids shut even more tightly.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I protest. “You’re not allowed to fall back to sleep yet. This is a cognitive test, and you haven’t answered any questions.”
“Candy canes,” he murmurs. “Cruise ship. Carols. Christmas.”
“Yes. It’s almost Christmas,” I say. “But do you know where you are?”
He blows out a long breath, eyes still squeezedshut. “Home alone.”
“You’renotalone, Three.” I glance around the room. “Or home. Do you remember where you are?”
“Hmmm.” He groans. “Lake house. With … with … Sara.”
“That’s right.” I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Good.”
“Yes, she does. She smellssogood.”
Gah!
Did he just say that? My already-pounding heart kicks into overdrive, until I remind myself the man is clearly under the influence of pain meds. And half of what’s coming out of his mouth sounds delirious. Which is exactly why I’m supposed to be doing a cognitive check in the first place. But I’m still not even sure he’s conscious. So I have to push the issue. Literally.
“Three!” I shove his arm until his lids finally crack open just a sliver.
“Oh. Hey. Hi,” he croaks.
“Hi. Can you open your eyes all the way and look at me? Please?”
Three moans, but he does as I tell him, propping himself up on an elbow. Of course my gaze automatically drifts to his straining biceps again. It’s like my pupils are magnets and his arms are made of steel. But I’m supposed to be nursing Three back to health, not ogling him.
No matter how good he thinks I smell.
“Do you know your name?” I ask, dragging my focus to the planes of his face. That was one of the questions on Mary’s checklist. If Three gets the answers right, I can get out of this room.
The sooner the better.
“Hmmm,” he hums again, and I avoid looking at the press of his lips. “Yes.”
Technically, that’s an answer. But is it a conscious one? I have to clarify. “Whatisyour name?” I ask again.
“Bradford.” He blinks. “Bradford Fuller. From the Original Fuller House.”
I sigh with relief. “Yes. You got it.” He sinks back onto the pillows, slowly shutting his eyes again. “Get some more rest now.”I click off the lamp, and rise from the bed, preparing to slip out of the room. “I’ll be back to check on you again in another couple hours.”
Three mutters, “No, don’t.”
I freeze. “No don’t, what?”
“Don’t. Stay.”
“Right.” I squint at him in the dark. Is he serious? “I just said I’m going.”
“No. Please. Don’t go. Stay.”
Oh no. This is a problem. What Ineedto do is get far away from Three and his mumbled apologies, not to mention his claims that I smell good. This is what my common sense is telling me. Then again, Three asked me to stay.
He wants you, Sara.
And the bottom line is I’m the one who did this to him. The least I could do is honor his request not to be left alone. So as much as I don’t want to, I grab a spare blanket from the closet and curl up in the armchair across the room. Then I stare at him in the darkness, waiting for my pulse to return to its normal pace.
