Page 30 of For Her Own Good

She nods into my chest and makes a small “mmm” noise, and then next thing I know, her hand is curled into my shirt and she’s breathing the perfectly regular and soft beats of sleep. Me? I will not be sleeping anytime soon. Even if I didn’t want to stay awake so I wouldn’t inadvertently move and hurt her, be ready should she need anything, I’d want to savor this. How could I possibly sleep when there’s something so precious and fleeting to be enjoyed?

Chapter 11

Starla

I was havingthe very best dream about cuddling with Lowry, and now I’m awake. While I do appear to be curled into his side and resting my head on his chest, I also hurt. All over. Worth it, maybe, if the result of my injuries means I get to be this close to him.Onhim.

He’s as solid as I’d ever hoped, and it’s heavenly to get to inhale him with every breath. But it’s the middle of the night, and I’m not going to do either of us any favors by sleeping through the night like this. As much as I might like to stay here, like this, forever and ever, I should get up. I try to be sneaky and sort of slither my way away from him, but there’s a rumble in his chest as I try.

“I’m not asleep, Star. You don’t have to be sneaking about.”

Of course he wouldn’t be asleep. I’ve been sprawled on him and probably snoring and drooling, and he’s endured every moment of it because he’s a nice person. That’s fan-fucking-tastic.

I do my best to sit up in a graceful manner, but I feel like the Tin Man left out in the rain overnight: rusty and stiff. Though I definitely have a heart and it’s beating quick from Lowry calling me Star. Lots of people have, it’s an incredibly obvious nickname, but he’s never done that. I’ve always been Starla, always. Does this mean—

No, I shouldn’t read anything into this. It’s late and he’s tired, and the extra syllable was too much effort. I get it.

Once I’m upright-ish, it’s becomes obvious why I was leaning over like that—it fucking hurts to put any weight at all on my right side. To relieve the pressure, I try to stand but that was, like, whoa, too fast. Dizziness swirls my brain and I sway. And then, again, Lowry is coming to my rescue, standing in front of me and resting his big hands on my waist.

“Not so fast. You’re going to take another tumble and you’ll be sorry for that.”

I’m sorry already. The dizziness dissipates, but I’m still feeling lightheaded and queasy. I use a hand on Lowry’s arm to steady myself and focus on his face. His tone had been easy, but his expression is one of genuine concern. My god, am I a disaster human. And I have once again asked too much of him. Though I’d like to curl my fingers around his biceps for hours, test and measure his strength, that is a thing I absolutely cannot do. So I yank my hand away as though he’s a hot stove. He could, in fact, burn me.

“You should go home. You have patients tomorrow and I’m fine. I mean, maybe I’ll have some more whisky, but otherwise, yeah. Fine. And if you’re worried about me being alone, I’ll call Holden.”

Holden mostly manages my bills and the finances of the business, but he also takes me to and from ECT. He’s my employee, but sometimes being my PA constitutes some kind of weird shit. Coming to sleep on my couch because I fell down some steps won’t be the worst thing I’ve ever asked him to do, not by a long shot.

“I’ll tell you what. How about I’ll stay until you figure out a way to lie down that’s comfortable enough for you to actually fall asleep and then I’ll go. But I can’t in good conscience leave you standing here knowing it took you several tries to find a good way to sit on the couch.”

Maybe I should ask him to sleep in my bed since that seemed to do the trick for being reasonably not in pain on the couch, but I don’t relish the idea of the horrified look I’d get in response. Yep, really don’t need that.

“Fine. Whatever.”

I move carefully away from the couch, completely mortified that Lowry is following close behind, probably with his arms out in case I fall over again. Could I be any more of a mess? Really wish poise were something I could buy.

Looking at my bed is a bit daunting, though. Lowry must sense my hesitation because he walks past me and pulls the covers back. I’ve always liked the way a million pillows look on people’s beds, but when I tried that they all ended up on the floor and stayed there, so now the only decorative one I keep is a BB-8 pillow.

Lowry’s a nice person though, so he doesn’t comment on my childish decor, just moves the adorable white and orange droid to the side.

“How do you usually sleep? On your back? Side?”

“Stomach.” Unless there’s someone to spoon me, which I will not bring up.

“Right, then.” His brow does that sexy furrow thing and he looks like he’s trying to work out some kind of complex equation. “Do you have a side of the bed? Or do you sleep in the middle?”

“Doyouhave a side of the bed?”

Dammit. Exhaustion is making me ask questions I have no business asking.

“I do. Only because Maeve liked to be on the right. I still sleep on the left, even though we haven’t shared a bed for years. Funny, the things that become habits.” He shrugs as though that’s not a weird thing for me to have asked.

“It, um, probably makes more sense for me to sleep on the right side. Since I’ll have to sleep on my left side, and I like facing the edge.”

“Okay. In you get, then.”

He folds the covers down farther and I slip in, careful to lie on my left side. I’m going to flop over though, I know it, and wake myself up with a start. I’m about to tell him so when he holds up a finger. “Not done yet.”

He grabs the pillow I’m not resting my head on, fluffs it, and then places it in front of my legs before holding out BB-8. I take the little droid and hug him to my chest, leaning over onto him and hiking a bent leg onto the pillow. Not bad, which is better than I have any right to expect given how much my body hurts.

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