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“C’mon, Halley. Swallow.”

His fingers were on my jaw, closing my mouth to keep the medicine inside, right before the rim of a glass poked between my lips. I parted them and drank. I choked down the pills, coughing and sputtering when the water clogged my sore, parched throat.

He rubbed a tender hand down my back until the coughing ebbed.

It had been a while since Father had whipped me with his brown belt, so I didn’t flinch away at the contact. Reed stroked his hand up and down my spine, his palm landing at the nape of my neck and cradling gently. Long fingers sifted through my knotted hair as his sigh whispered along my temple.

When he inched away, it felt like he’d tossed me in a freezer and sealed it shut.

But then his words traveled over to me, warming me again. “Did you take these?”

“Hmm?”

“These pictures.”

I tried to blink away the film as I slowly twisted my head to face him. Reed was holding the stack of photographs I’d taken at school. “Yes,” I croaked. “They’re crap.”

“They’re not. They’re really good.”

The compliment sent more fuzzy heat straight through me. “I was just practicing.”

He was silent for a few beats and it felt like a lifetime. “You have something here.”

“Yes. A pile of crap.”

“Halley.” Reed fell quiet again, studying each picture like it was a rare portrait hung on a gallery wall. “Even these blueberries. The way you framed the picture and blurred the background.”

“I was hungry.”

A sigh coasted along my temple, reminding me of his proximity.

He discarded the photos and moved away.

No.

I needed him closer. I craved comfort.

“Can you stay…” I nuzzled closer to him, already feeling the pull of sleep threatening to yank me back under. It had been nearly a decade since I’d been cared for like this. When I was ten years old, I’d come down with a sinus infection that had kept me fever-ridden for a week. Nana was still alive, and she’d taken care of me. She’d sung lullabies by my bedside, read me storybooks, and reminisced old-age stories to comfort my restless mind.

And then she’d died.

My lifeline had been severed.

“Please,” I rasped, snuggling closer to him.

Reed stiffened at my plea.

There was no response.

I was about to withdraw it, take it back, but after a few seconds passed, Reed lowered me back down to the bed and pulled the blanket up over my trembling body, tucking me inside.

I felt him lay down at my left. Not too close but close enough to bring me the most peace I’d felt in a long, long time.

“I’m sorry…I lied to you…” I stuttered through the dizzying daze of sickness, fever, and Reed. “I’m an awful person.”

“Don’t. It’s in the past.”

I swallowed down a bone-dry boulder in my throat. “Lots of things are in the past. Doesn’t mean they don’t matter.”

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