Page 161 of Lesson In Faith

“Do bears shit in the woods around Serenity?”

Merrick laughed, grimacing against the stab of pain. “Probably.”

“Probably will do,” Jasper answered as he walked to the door. “Don’t do anything stupid like getting out of bed. Been there, done that. Hurts like a bitch.”

Waiting until his friend opened the door, Merrick said, “Jasper?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for the rest of my life.”

A white-blond eyebrow arched. “Don’t thank me; thank the angel sitting on your shoulder.” His cell phone chirped and he reached for it, giving a nod to Merrick as he walked out. “Yes, kitten, I’ll be there…”

Within twenty seconds, Tamsyn slipped into the room like a shadow. A shadow, he noted, far too reminiscent of the one he’d found huddled in the storage closet only a few months ago, withdrawn and silent.

She was covered in bruises, her pale skin mottled with various colors, and there were a few healing scratches and scrapes he could see. She’d lost a little bit of weight, nothing too drastic, but her hair was clean and shiny, hanging loose around her shoulders, and her clothes were freshly laundered.

Fordham was doing a good job of taking care of her in Merrick’s absence.

“Little owl,” he said gruffly.

Her head lifted, her sad eyes seeking his. They shimmered with tears, then she stumbled toward the bed with her arms outstretched. No hesitation, no fear; she needed the comfort only he could give, and he was desperate to hold her.

She draped herself over his chest, careful not to catch the wires and tubes, and jerked with the effort of throttling back a sob.

Merrick stroked his hand up and down her spine, soothing the trembles running through her. He was tiring, his legendary stamina straining to keep him awake for a few more minutes. He’d lost far too much time with her already. “I missed you, little owl.”

It was true—the brief moments when lucidity returned before more morphine flooded his system, she consumed his scattered thoughts almost as fully as the pain.

Another sob. Her fingers clutched the covers as she buried her face into his chest.

Fuck the pain. Fuck the discomfort.

“Stand up, darlin’,” he murmured. “Just for a second.”

He physically felt the effort it took for her to pry herself away from him. The loss of her weight, her warmth, was immediate but thankfully brief. Shuffling awkwardly a few inches to the right, he concealed a grimace and flipped back the thin blanket covering his atrociously weak body. “Come on, get in here.”

Tamsyn paled further, shaking her head.

“That’s an order, little owl. You’re not gonna hurt me, and I need you right now.” He patted the small sliver of mattress enticingly. “In about two minutes, I’m gonna be asleep, Tamsyn. Can’t help it, can’t fight it. It’s part of the healing process, remember?”

She licked her lips nervously, then nodded.

“I need you here with me, little owl. Right here in this ridiculously small hospital bed, pressed against me where I know you’re safe. Can you do me that little favor, darlin’?”

The way she wrung her hands together was adorable. She wanted to do as he asked, to already be snuggled against him, but she knew what it was like to be in pain and was obviously afraid of causing him more—her eyes were communicating a whole lot better than her voice at the moment.

“Pretty please?” he cajoled, pleased when her lips almost twitched.

Cautiously, as if the bed was on fire, she eased herself beside him, slower than a goddamn tortoise. Her arm slid over his chest, and when his curled around her back, she lost all inhibitions, clinging to him fiercely.

“There we go. There we go, little owl,” he repeated with a contented sigh, pressing a kiss to her hair. He let himself relax, finding the peace he’d been missing for what seemed like forever, and closed his eyes as exhaustion washed over him. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

He was on the downward slope, falling headlong toward sleep when he heard her whispered, “Merk?”

“Hmmm?”

“I missed you too.”

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