Page 41 of A Prescription to My Heart

Talia follows her inside, the door swinging shut behind her.

I stare after them, my pulse still uneven, the ghost of her skin lingering against mine.

This was supposed to be simple.An arrangement. A deal.

But I already know…

I’m in trouble.

Chapter 9

Talia

Marigold’sroomisaworld of its own.

Soft pink walls, glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across the ceiling, books stacked in uneven piles, and a bed overflowing with stuffed animals. The warm, bubbly scent of children’s shampoo lingers in the air, mixing with the faintest trace of the rain that’s begun to fall outside.

I don’t realize how much time has passed until I glance at the clock on her nightstand.

Almost ten.

Ooops.

I sit up, brushing strands of Marigold’s curls from my lap. “Okay, kiddo. I should head home.”

Marigold’s head snaps up from where she’s been braiding her doll’s hair. Her bottom lip juts out immediately. “No.”

I sigh, trying to ignore how big her eyes suddenly look. “Marigold—”

A clap of thunder shakes the room. She gasps, launching herself into my arms so fast I nearly topple backward.

“I don’t like storms,” she mumbles against my chest.

My heart squeezes.

I hesitate, glancing toward the window. The rain is hammering against the glass, the wind howling as lightning flashes across the sky.

I might live close, but walking even a few dozen yards in this wouldn’t be the wisest decision.

And she’s scared.

I sigh, rubbing Marigold’s back in slow, soothing circles. “It’s just a storm, sweetheart. It’ll pass.”

Another crack of thunder. She clutches me harder.

“Stay,” she whispers. “Please?”

Her fingers curl into the fabric of my dress. I exhale, glancing toward the door.

Where is Soren?

The thought of walking out and facing him, of telling him I’m staying—possibly for the night—twists something in my chest.

His coldness I can deal with, but him acting all nice andhuman,I don’t think I can handle. He was already looking at me differently earlier. Making me feel things I don’t want to feel.

But Marigold is trembling against me, her tiny frame shaking every time the thunder rolls.

And that decides it.

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