Page 121 of The Broken Keys

“I don’t wanna take advantage?—”

“You’re not.” I kiss him hard. “I’m taking advantage of you.”

He pushes up and rolls off me. “Livianna, you’re covered in bruises.”

I sit up. “It doesn’t hurt that much, Callum.”

“That may be, but your doctor told me when he went over your discharge orders, you’re not supposed to do this yet.”

“Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes. “Just because I have a sore hip?—”

“Your entire left side, from your ribs down to your thigh, is one black and blue canvas.”

He’s right. My left side throbs with every movement, and my head pounds like someone’s taking a hammer to it. But I’ve dealt with worse. Much worse.

“Callum, I’m fine.”

“That’s not true.” He rests against the headboard and slides a pillow over his lap, likely trying to hide his erection. “And you know it.”

“So what?’ I shift to get closer to him, ignoring how my ribs scream in protest. “I should just lie here alone because I have a few little wounds?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” I shake my head and growl. “Because from my point of view, you want me, but you won’t touch me. That’s confusing as hell, Callum.”

“The doctor specifically said no strenuous activity for at least two weeks. That includes sex.”

“Is that really what he put in the orders, or are you just trying to protect me because you’re scared you’re going to hurt me?”

“It was in the instructions.” His tone is gentle but firm. “You said you didn’t wanna deal with medical bullshit and told me to handle it. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“Whatever.” Even now, the idea of sitting through a lecture about rest and recovery makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

“Lily, you put me in charge.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe I did say that.” I shift on the bed, and pain shoots down my hip. “But that doesn’t mean?—”

“It means I know what your doctor said.” He runs his palm over my knee. “And I’m not gonna ignore medical advice because you’re stubborn.”

“Yes, I’m bruised and have a concussion, but I’m not broken, Callum. I can still want things.”

“I know you can.” His hand finds mine. “But wanting something and being ready for it are two different things.”

The truth in his words settles between us. He’s right even though I hate admitting it. My body is screaming at me to stop moving, lie down, and rest. But my mind refuses to listen.

It’s always been like this. As long as I can remember, I pushed through distress like it was nothing. I ignored my body’s warnings because feeling physical discomfort was easier than sitting with emotional pain.

“I just want something normal.” My disappointment bleeds through my words. “Everything in my life is wrong right now. Nothing makes sense. But this—you and me—this feels right. Can’t we just have that?”

“We can.” He pats the space next to him. “Just not like this. Not when it could hurt you.”

I move to sit beside him and rest my head on his shoulder. “How long did the doctor say?”

“Two weeks minimum.”

“That’s forever.”

“It’s fourteen days, Lily.” He strokes my hair. “Besides, you’re still having your period, right?”