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“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I grunted again. “Fine. But I’m taking her temp every hour.”
Why were her eyes gleaming like that? And why was she studying my face that way?
“You’re worried about her,” she added gently.
Denial swiftly pushed to the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t force the words out.
“It’s kinda sweet,” she continued.
“It’s not fucking sweet, Valentine. I’ve just never ... I’m never around sick kids, and I hate feeling out of control, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
It was dark in the hallway, and we were standing close.
She smelled good. Like mint and chocolate.
Then she set her hand on my arm, as if comforting me. “She’ll be okay, I promise.”
Was my skin sizzling where she’d touched it? Did it feel to her like I was burning up from the inside? Because I fucking was.
I took a step back, and her expression immediately shifted.
There was no other choice to be made, though. I was too wildly out of control of the snarling beast locked tight behind the walls. He was already rattling his cage and pressing at the seams because the little girl I didn’t want was sick and there was fuck all I could do about it.
No. Touching Zoe right now was the worst possible thing I could do.
Without another word, I walked into Chris and Amie’s room and pulled one of the decorative pillows from the mound on their bed, then grabbed the blanket folded over the large chair in the corner. Zoe was back in Mira’s room when I returned. With one hand, she gently stroked the little girl’s cheek. In her other was the thermometer.
“Any change?” I asked.
“No. Same.”
Same was good.
I tossed the pillow and blanket onto the floor next to Mira’s crib, studiously avoiding Zoe’s shocked facial expression.
“What are you ...?” Her voice trailed off.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I said. “Someone’s gotta be able to hear her if she needs something. I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor.”
Zoe covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the makeshift bed.
I felt naked. Twitchy. Like I was under a spotlight, exposing every fucking vulnerability I had in one fell swoop.
Naturally, that made me take a swipe at her, because I was a bloody idiot.
“Don’t beg to join me, Valentine. I’m not in the mood for cuddling.”
Except she didn’t roll her eyes. Didn’t get annoyed or snipe back. She just kept those eyes locked dead center on mine.
“You trying to pry into my brain? I can guarantee you won’t like what you find there.”
Why wasn’t she rising to the bait? It would be so much easier if she did. If she fought back, if she let those sparks fly between us like she always did, I could keep a level head.
Nothing about me was feeling level.
And maybe, just maybe, I could pull her into that unsteadiness with me. Because I was a selfish bastard. The thought was enough to make me pull my eyes away from hers. To cool the rising swell inside me.
