Page 154 of The Obedient Lie
“Being sick?”
He shook his head slowly. “Being taken care of.”
My stomach tugged.
“Why?” I asked but already knowing the answer.
He didn’t respond. Just let his eyes drift closed.
I reached for the cloth again, this time folding it fresh and cool, and wiped it gently along the back of his neck. Bastion’s muscles were tense — then slowly unraveled beneath myhand, like he was losing the energy to pretend it didn’t feel good.
Luca was already curled on his side, blanket half over his hips, the sound of his congested breathing filling the quiet.
“Do you want to sleep?” I asked Bastion softly.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll miss you doing that.” His voice cracked slightly when he said.
My throat tightened.
“Shut up,” I whispered, brushing the cloth along his jaw, softer now. “You sound like death.”
His mouth curved.
Then — without even asking — Bastion laid his head in my lap.
Just folded himself there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He wasburning.
Not dangerously, but enough to make my chest ache.
Because I didn’t think anyone had ever sat through his fever before. Not as a kid. Not last year.Not ever.
He didn’t know how to be taken care of.
And neither did Luca.
Bastion’s breath slowed. He closed his eyes, and his hand curled over thigh.
I ran my fingers through his hair — slow, rhythmic strokes — and tried not to let my own emotions swell too high.
They were never like this.
Never soft.
Never open.
Even in bed, even tangled with me between them, there was always some invisible line. Some balance of control and heat and tension that never tipped into this.
But now?
Now Bastion’s hand held onto me like I wassafety.
And Luca — already asleep — had shifted toward my side too, his leg brushing mine under the blanket.
