Page 17 of His North Star
The tires hummed against the road while he drove to my house. The radio was so low only an occasional strum of a guitar came through.
“Thanks for dropping Lys off so quickly. Although I feel bad you didn’t get dessert. You really could have ordered it to go.” He shouldn’t miss out entirely. It wasn’t his fault we had to leave early. My head pounded like a jackhammer, but I could’ve held on for a few more minutes.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “Should I be taking you to the ER?”
My stomach heaved. I despised the hospital. There were too many visits to my brother Landon’s best friend, Jared, when we were teens. Jared had battled cancer and devastatingly lost. The ghost fragrance of bleach and burnt gravy filled my nostrils. “No.”
“I’d feel better if we did.”
“Please, just take me home.”
After parking, Ty opened the truck door and offered his arm. I fumbled off the seat and leaned against him. The pulsating disco party in my skull expanded to my back muscles. We climbed the stairs to my apartment slow and steady. Once inside, he led me to my bed, removed my boots, then pulled my blankets over me.
“Do you want ibuprofen?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” I closed my eyes and shifted onto my side. My pillow was a heaven-sent cloud.
His movements around the house floated down the hall to my room. After a few minutes, his arm slid behind my back and I winced, sucking in a breath.
“Here.” He handed me two pills and a glass of water. After I swallowed, he took the cup from me, setting it on my nightstand. He pulled his phone flashlight out and shone it directly in my face.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Knock it off.”
“Just making sure you don’t have a concussion.”
“I don’t.” My medical expertise—of which I had zero—said so.
“Do you need anything else?”
I reached out blindly for his hand. “Stay with me for a minute. Just until the pain subsides.”
He walked to the other side of the bed, took his shoes off, and settled against my headboard.
“Thank you,” I said. “Did you have fun seeing James tonight?”
When he didn’t respond, I sat up. Tightness shot from my lower back to the top of my head. A slight concussion might not be completely out of the question. But no way would I tell Ty that. Slowly, I scooted back and rested against the headboard.
“Why aren’t you talking to me?” I whispered. Was he mad at me?
His brows and lips were pinched. “Because you’re hurt. You need rest, not blabber.”
My lips wouldn’t cooperate, and my smile fell flat. “Is that what we do? I thought we talked like adults.”
He sighed while meeting my eyes. “I mean it, Mare.Notalking.”
I bit my tongue. Why had he gotten in a tizzy when I’d joked around with James earlier? I opened my mouth to ask him but snapped it shut. As annoyed as I was at his rude behavior during dinner, it didn’t matter. James and I would never see one another again.
The steady rhythm of our breaths and the dull pounding in my skull led me into a dreamless oblivion. At five-thirty, I floated out of a deep sleep. My head rested on Ty’s chest. His arm was wrapped around my waist. I nuzzled in a little closer, inhaling his masculine scent. For such a hard chest, it proved the perfect headrest. I could easily wake up like this every morning. In his arms. Safe.
I stiffened.
What in the cosmos was I doing? We were friends, and while we’d fallen asleep countless times on the couch together, never in bed.He has a girlfriend!My body tensed. I had to move before he woke up.
Slowly, I slid out from under his arm. I went into my bathroom to get more medicine and shower, my head thrumming the entire time. After turning the water on, I pushed yesterday’s clothes, which stank like old meat, down the laundry chute that led to the garage below. I winced as I shampooed the back of my head. Ouch, James got me good.
I got out and wrapped up in my towel. I had just about flung the door open when it hit me. Shoot. Ty.Why didn’t I grab clothes before going to the bathroom?I groaned. If I walked out there in only a towel, it would be bad.
So, so bad.
