Page 36 of Life Or Death

“We’ll go slow.” She helps me sit up straighter, then carefully maneuvers the sweatpants over my feet, up my calves, and past my knees. Her movements are gentle, and though the fabric irritates my grafts as it brushes against them, the pain is manageable.

She pulls them up to my waist, adjusting the drawstring until they sit comfortably.

“There,” she says, stepping back. “How do you feel?”

I look down at myself—the baggy sweats, the hospital gown still covering my top half—and something settles in my chest. I’m still in a hospital bed, but I feel less like a patient and more like a person.

“Better,” I admit.

Sandy smiles and glances toward the armchair in the corner of the room. “Do you want to move to the chair? I can call Marcus to help you.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m okay here for now.”

I’ve already pushed myself enough for one day.

Sandy nods, then hesitates. “If you want, I could go check on your husband, see if he’s still around.”

I stare at my hands, tracing the lines on my palms. After the way I reacted, I’m sure he’s long gone, but I nod anyway. I don’t want to be alone.

“If he’s still here, tell him he can come back,” I say quietly.

Sandy’s face brightens. “I’ll be right back.”

A couple of minutes later, the door opens again. Lucifer fills the frame, his massive body seeming too large for the hospital doorway. He hesitates, one hand still on the doorknob, as if waiting for permission to enter.

“Hi,” I say, my voice small.

He steps inside, letting the door close behind him. His dark eyes scan my face, taking in the ponytail and the hint of makeup.

“You look nice.” He lifts his hand above his head and waves it around. “I like the ponytail.”

I don’t know what it is about that last sentence I find funny. Maybe it’s the way he motions to my hair in such an awkward manner, but a laugh bubbles up from my chest. The sound surprises us both, and for a moment, the tension in the room dissipates.

The corners of Lucifer’s mouth lift slightly, and he inhales sharply.

“Shit,” he mutters.

The laughter dies almost instantly. “What?”

He shakes his head, dragging a hand over the side of his face. “Nothing . . .” His voice trails, and he bites the inside of his cheek, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. Then he straightens his shoulders and tips his chin. “It’s just . . . you laughed.”

That gives me pause, and I try to remember the last time I found anything funny, but I can’t.

“I guess I did, didn’t I?” I murmur.

“Yeah, and the sound is just as devastatingly beautiful as I thought it’d be.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks at his words. I glance down at my hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. The silence stretches between us until I finally work up the nerve to break it.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. “For earlier. The way I reacted when you walked in.”

Lucifer’s expression softens. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” I shake my head, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my hospital gown. “I shouldn’t have screamed at you to leave like that.”

He takes a step closer, then stops, his eyes drifting to the chair beside my bed.

“Is it okay if I sit?”