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Cove nods, but his eyes are still fixed on the stairs.
“Do you think she’ll be okay?” he asks softly.
“I don’t know,” I admit. I think she handled the news better than I would have done if our roles were reversed and she’s definitely taken it better than Bhodi did. “But we have to trust that she can handle this. We all have to trust each other if we’re going to make it through.”
Cove looks at me, his eyes full of something I can’t quite read. But then he nods again, more firmly this time.
“You’re right,” he agrees. “We have to stick together. No matter what.”
I smile at him, feeling a little bit of the tension dissipate.
“Get some rest, Cove. We’ll see how she is in the morning.”
“I’ll go for a shower first,” he says, clapping me on the back before taking off upstairs. I wonder if he’ll check on Malia or if he’ll let her be.
“I need you to go and find Bhodi,” the prof says, drawing my attention back to him. I stifle a sigh. Of course he does. “You’re the only one he’ll respond to when he gets like this.”
“I know,” I say flatly. Just because it’s not in my style to rant and rave and react to everything like him, it doesn’t mean I don’t understand how he’s feeling. Blindsided.
This was probably a conversation the four of us should have had years ago, so that we were all working from the same page. What I don’t understand is why the professor encouraged us to keep getting close to Malia if he was sure she was the star. He had to know we would develop feelings for her, and that we wouldn’t be okay with just casually killing her when the time was right.
“I’ll go looking for him. Maybe I’ll try the camping ground.”
“Don’t. His stitches are still healing. He wouldn’t go there to fight.” I’m not sure I agree with the prof on that assessment. “Try the bars in town first.”
I nod, even though my gut is telling me that he’s absolutely lost all sense of reason – enough that he would risk his life by stepping into the ring before he’s fully healed. But an order’s an order. I have to try the bars in town first. Maybe once I’ve exhausted those options I can circle back and try Doc’s camping ground.
I just hope he hasn’t done anything stupid. Or that if he has – because let’s face it, it’s Bhodi, and he’s the most hot headed out of all of us – that I get to him in time.
“Malia?” I knock gently on her door, hesitant to let myself in, even if it is technically my room. “Can I come in?”
“It’s your room,” comes the muffled reply.
It’s not an invitation, but it’s not a no either, so I quietly open the door and slip inside. I’m trying to tell myself that I just want to check on her, make sure she’s alright. But I know that I need comfort myself right now, and I’ll only find that with her.
Inside, Malia’s curled up in the bed, her back to me. It stirs something inside me to see her taking comfort between my sheets, that my room has become her safe space, even despite the closet incident.
I take a step closer, watching her chest rise and fall. She looks so peaceful, so pure, and it’s hard to resist the urge to join her in the bed. I know I shouldn’t, but my body craves her touch. Perhaps now more than ever. But I’m not here to take advantage of her, I’m here to make sure she’s alright.
“Malia?”
“Hmm?”
I abandon what I was going to say. “Can I join you?” I ask tentatively, already moving towards the bed. Malia rolls over so she’s facing me, her eyes the only thing peeking out from beneath the covers, and nods, before shuffling back to make room for me next to her. I climb in, feeling the heat of her body against mine, and wrap an arm around her waist.
We lie there in silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other’s company, when Malia speaks up.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
“You’resorry? What on earth for? You have nothing to be apologising for, Mai-Tai,” I say, reaching out to cup her chin and gently lifting her head so that I can look at her.
“For flipping out and leaving,” she says, staring at me with wide eyes that are still glistening with tears.
“Malia, that wasn’t flipping out. Not even close. You chose to remove yourself from a highly stressful, highly emotional situation. No one can blame you for that.”
“I don’t think I’m handling this well,” she confesses in a low whisper.
“I think you’re handling this better than the rest of us.” Unable to help myself, I drop a kiss to her forehead and linger for a moment.
