Page 81 of The Secrets We Built Together

It was everything I'd never known I wanted.

My eyelids grew heavy again, the brief burst of energy from the soup fading fast. I fought to keep them open, not wanting to miss a moment of this strangely perfect afternoon.

"Stop fighting it," Xander said, noticing my struggle. "Sleep helps you heal."

"Don't you ever get tired of being right?" I mumbled, my words slurring slightly as exhaustion took over.

He laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Never."

"Stay?" I asked, already drifting. "Both of you?"

"We're not going anywhere," he promised.

I felt him adjusting the blanket around me, his touch so gentle it made my heart ache. As I slipped into sleep, I thought I felt his lips press against my forehead, but maybe that was just the fever playing tricks on me.

I woke to the sound of Xander's voice, low and soothing. For a moment, I kept my eyes closed, just listening. He was talking to Amelia, who was making occasional cooing sounds in response.

"...and that's how a stethoscope works," he was saying. "Maybe when you're a little bigger, I'll let you listen to my heartbeat with one. Would you like that?"

Amelia gurgled, and Xander laughed softly.

"I'll take that as a yes. Your mommy would probably say I'm boring you with all this medical talk, but it's never too early to start learning. Maybe you'll be a doctor someday. Or an artist like your mom. Or something completely different. That's the exciting part—you can be anything."

There it was again. Mommy. Your mom. The words made something warm unfurl in my chest.

"The important thing," Xander continued, his voice growing softer, more serious, "is that you know we'll always be here for you. No matter what. I'm not going anywhere, little bit. You and your mom are stuck with me."

The fever must have lowered my defenses completely, because before I could stop myself, I whispered, "I love you."

The words hung in the air, and I realized with horror what I'd just said. I hadn't meant to say it out loud—hadn't even fully processed the thought before it escaped my lips.

Xander went silent. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me, shock evident on his face, Amelia propped against his chest as he held what appeared to be a medical journal.

"Blake?" he said, his voice careful, measured.

"Sorry," I mumbled, heat flooding my face that had nothing to do with my fever. "I didn't—I mean—it must be the fever talking. I'm not thinking clearly."

Why was I even trying to backpedal? Itwastrue. Ididlove him. I loved the way he cared for Amelia, the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't noticing, the way he'd built a life for us when we needed it most.

Xander studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Was he trying to decide if I'd meant it? If the fever had made me delirious? If our carefully constructed arrangement was about to come crashing down around us?

"Hey," he said softly, standing and bringing Amelia over. "How are you feeling?"

He was letting me off the hook, pretending I hadn't just dropped an emotional bombshell. Relief and disappointment warred within me.

"Better," I said, surprised to find it was true. "Still not great, but better."

"Good." He came closer, adjusting Amelia in his arms. "Let me check your temperature."

He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead, his touch gentle. "You feel cooler. The medicine must be working."

"What time is it?"

"Almost six," he said, glancing at his watch. "You've been out for a while."

I pushed myself to a sitting position, relieved when the room didn't spin. "Have you been sitting here the whole time? With Amelia?"

"We've been busy," he said with a small smile. "Lots to discuss. Medical ethics, the proper way to sterilize equipment, the existential implications of Peek-a-Boo. You know, the usual."

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