Page 65 of A Matter of Time

“Why didn’t you take me back to the hospital?”

His jaw clenched. “’Cause you just have a concussion. I know all about those.”

I smiled at him before I looked around the room. “Is it okay if I take a shower?”

“Sure.” He walked over to the bed. “You need help getting up?”

“No,” I said, but I didn’t move. He nodded, staring down at me.

I arched an eyebrow.

“Okay, well, it’s right through there.” He pointed to the right. “I’ll bring you some sweats, okay?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

When he left, I threw back the covers and got up in stages. First sitting up, then getting my legs over the side of the bed, moving next to setting my bare feet on the polished hardwood floor. I was so glad I wasn’t dizzy. I didn’t want to do a face-plant onto his Navajo-patterned throw rug, and even more…I didn’t want to need him.

I stood in the shower under the hot water until it ran cold. When I got out, I went through his medicine cabinet and found only the essentials. There was none of my cocoa butter lotion, my hair products, my moisturizer, or my lip balm. I was completely addicted to lip balm and applied it all day every day. There was a gentle knock on the door after a few minutes. I hadn’t really registered the first few times he’d tapped since I was busy scrutinizing my black eye and the bruises on my throat.

“Yeah?”

“I put the sweats out here on the bed.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

I finally found some Jergens lotion under the sink, used that everywhere, then waited a few more minutes to make sure he’d left the room before I went out. I didn’t want to talk to him; I just wanted to rest.

The sweats he left me were neatly folded on the bed, there was a long-sleeve T-shirt as well, and when I put the sweats on, I had to turn the bottoms up, like, six times, pull the drawstring really tight, and roll the top over before they would even stay on my hips. The T-shirt was just as ill-fitting. I would definitely not be borrowing any more of Sam Kage’s clothes. I climbed back into his bed and lay down. I was exhausted just from the effort a shower had taken.

“Hey.” He walked into the bedroom. “You feel better?”

I bunched one of his pillows up behind my head, getting comfortable. It was raining outside—really hard, from what I could hear—and I knew it was cold. But I was warm and cozy in bed.

“You look very content.”

“’Cause I am.” I smiled, looking around the room, letting out a deep sigh.

“Ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Who’s Nick Sullivan?”

“Doctor I date.”

“Oh, okay.”

“He’s very nice.”

“Oh yeah? Very nice?”

I grunted because I wasn’t really listening.