Page 7 of My Sweetest Agony
The thick, gray fog clouding my brain starts to clear slowly, but I try to cling to it. Try desperately to make it stay so he will stay.
A crack of thunder rattles the house, and I groan and roll toward the only touch that has ever lit me on fire.
“Drew…mmm…was sleeping…”
Those fingers at my temple still. “Ivy, I need you to open your eyes for me.”
Ugh…
So demanding.
That isn’t like Drew.
He’s so patient. So kind. Always putting everyone else’s needs first. Taking care of me the way only he can. Like now…
“Ivy, please.”
That strain in his normally smooth voice finally shatters the last vestiges of sleep, and I force my lids open.
Shadows engulf the room, the lights I swore were on in the kitchen and living room now off. Only the occasional flash of lightning through the front window illuminates the space.
Drew squats in front of me, where I lie on the couch, cocooned in the thick, fuzzy blanket I remember being draped across the back. His normally bright-blue eyes seem darker tonight as he examines me, hand still pressed to one cheek, keeping my face tilted toward him. “Are you feeling okay?”
Huh?
Why wouldn’t I be?
He always worries so much.
It’s so hard for him to take off his “doctor” hat, even when he’s not at the hospital and there’s no reason to worry.
I push myself up slowly, his hand falling away with my movement, and he shifts back slightly and rises to his feet.
It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness to be able to see anything.
The pale wood floors.
Booted feet.
Black motorcycle boots.
Dark jeans.
A black T-shirt pulled taut over a sculpted chest.
Tattoos swirling up his left arm…
What?
I blink a few times, trying to clear the remaining fog I’ve been floating in.
Lightning flashes again, followed by another rumble of thunder.
The man standing in front of me retreats a step, then another, until he can lower himself into one of the chairs across from the sofa.
But something is wrong.
Very wrong.
