Page 45 of Cold Moon

“Even just a little,” Alpha Grove said, frowning.

“What about the water bottles?” I offered instead. “We got water at the movies.”

Alpha Grove’s scowl deepened. “Just water?”

I nodded. “But—honestly, it makes more sense than Barbara using Sterling sugar to sweeten her tea.”

Skye sighed. “He’s right. After losing her daughter... Linden, there’s just no way.”

Linden pinched the bridge of his nose, no doubt overwhelmed by the prospect of having to worry about the water we drank. “Okay,” he said after a second, dropping his hand. “I’ll look into it. You all right for a few minutes?”

Sucking in his cheeks, Skye gave him a nod. He didn’t look a whole lot better, but he’d stopped throwing up. He was pale and tired now, his hands a little shaky when he lifted them to make putting on monitors easier for Alpha Grove.

Linden left us to make some phone calls outside. I probably could’ve eavesdropped, but there Skye was, staring up at me with a pitiful, chagrinned look on his face. I had plenty to worry about right here in front of me.

I pulled one of the chairs off the wall and went right to the side of his bed, then sat down and slipped my hand, palm up, under his.

“So, this is a complete disaster.” Skye laughed, ducking his head. For once, no color rushed into his cheeks.

I shook my head while I rubbed my thumb across the edge of his palm. “Nope. Not even a little bit.”

He scowled, disbelief in every line of his pale face. But his blue eyes were shining and, sure, a little bloodshot. Didn’t matter. Still gorgeous.

“I’m being serious,” I insisted. “This was one of the best days I’ve ever had. A guy I have a crush on asked me out. I got to hold his hand. I mean, okay—maybe you have a point. Not everything wentperfect. In my perfect world, you’d feel amazing all the time. But tonight didn’t have to be perfect for me to enjoy being with you.”

“Seriously?” Skye’s hand flexed. He slipped his fingers between mine, and I squeezed back softly.

“Seriously. Ten out of ten, would date again.”

“And if I get sick?”

“Then we handle it. I want to be there for you. I’ll get better at not just standing there like a jerk. Maybe Alpha Grove can give me some pointers.”

He chuckled. “You should really call him Linden. He’s still pretty squirmy about the whole pack-alpha thing.”

I blinked. Hard to imagine an alpha being uncomfortable with any degree of power.

“Okay. Maybe Linden’s got some tips.”

Skye’s smile was blinding in the stark-white circle of his face. “Then we’ll have a redo.”

“Absolutely. But I’m pretty sure a date doesn’t end until one of us goes home, and there’s a TV right over there...” I tipped my head toward the corner of the room, then looked slyly back at him. “Want to watch something?”

26

Skye

Linden was gone for way more than a few minutes, but given how crappy things had been looking there for a while, I didn’t mind too much.

Dante had found reruns of an old TV show that was a mystery and a comedy, and we were both utterly engrossed within a few minutes. Just like in the theater, he held onto my hand, his own warm and dry compared to my clammy palms. Our shoulders were pressed together instead of our knees, but it was almost as nice, when my heart slowed a bit and my stomach stopped cramping.

In some ways, it was nicer.

It wasn’t just Dante on a date with me, it was Dante completely accepting me, as I was. Sad, broken little Skye, and he wasn’t annoyed and pacing and complaining that I’d ruined our date. He wasn’t just plain old gone. He was grinning at a joke one of the main characters had made, shaking his head. “Imagine being that cocky,” he said with wonder, and I had to stifle laughter, because it was true.

Maybe Dante and I were a lot of things, some good and some bad, but cocky was none of them. He was constantly afraid of doing and saying the wrong thing, walking a line, scared of straying because he was convinced he was surrounded by people waiting for him to screw up and prove he was just like his father. It made for a careful, nervous alpha.

Me, I was all over the place. Maybe cocky would have been my natural state, if not for being sick. I was smart, and I knew it. And people confided in me sometimes, so I had more information than the average nineteen-year-old did. But the constant reminders of my illness had always kept any ego in check.

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