Page 117 of Snowed In
“You want to help me in the shower or—”
“I’ll tidy up out here,” I blurt, and he smirks as he closes the door.
I wait until I hear the water turn on, and only when I’m sure he hasn’t fallen over anddieddo I get to work opening the window for some fresh air and organizing the stuff I brought up earlier. As I do, my attention strays to the bed and before I know what I’m doing, I start stripping the covers off. Fresh sheets. Everyone loves fresh sheets.
I know from my rooting that there’s spare linen in the cupboards, and by the time Christian comes out again, I’m wrestling with the corners.
“You don’t need to do that,” he says as soon as he sees me.
“It’s fine.”
He watches me finish with a slightly glazed look in his eye, which is how Iknowhe’s sick because a non-sick Christian would have made a joke and batted me away before doing the job perfectly, but instead, he just stands with his shoulders slumped like some kind of normal person.
When I’m done, he takes a few shuffling steps over and falls onto the mattress with a dull thud. “Smells like clean,” he mutters.
“That’s good.” I give him a light shove to make him roll over and then drape the sheet over him. I’ve got more blankets by the side of the bed, but I don’t know if he’d be too hot or too cold or if it’s like in the movies where he says he’s cold, but really, he’s roasting and yeah…I would not make a good nurse.
“I’ll leave you to get some rest,” I tell him when his eyes close, but I’ve barely said the words when his hand shoots out, finding mine with unnerving accuracy where it rests on the mattress beside him.
“Or you can stay.”
“You need to sleep.”
“I’ll sleep,” he says, the words so muffled I can barely make them out. “I’m just saying you can stay. If you want to.”
If I want to.
“Okay,” I say, and his grip loosens enough to let me go. I tell myself it’s fine. I’d just be coming in here to check on him every two minutes, anyway.
There’s a large armchair in the corner of the room, and I drag it closer to the bed. I’ll wait until he’s asleep before I go and get my knitting, but for now, I just sit there, folding my legs under me as I watch his chest rise and fall.
It’s only then I realize I forgot to close the blinds. The sunlight still streams through the windows, hitting him right in the face, and I stand, annoyed with myself but not sure if he wants them like that or not.
“Christian? Do you need me to…” I trail off, as a soft snore is my answer.
He’s out like a light.
TWENTY-FIVE
CHRISTIAN
I wake to disorientation.
And a really dry mouth.
There’s an ache in my neck from sleeping strangely and a stiffness in my limbs that makes it difficult to move, but I no longer feel like my head is being hit by a mallet, so I guess that’s something.
I blink my eyes open, grateful, when I spy a glass of water on the bedside table. I’m even more grateful when I’m able to reach for it like a normal person. I sit up carefully, testing my body, and then drink the whole thing in three gulps, eyeing the dull daylight outside. The sight of it is a relief. I must not have slept that long if it’s still bright. I must have just—
I freeze as the sheets shift around my legs, suddenly aware of another presence in the bed, and look down to see Megan curled into a ball beside me, a small patch of drool on her pillow.
Huh.
She’s on top of the covers, in thick cotton leggings, and a navy T-shirt. She’s also fast asleep and looks like she has been for a while.
I ease myself out of bed, draping the sheet over her legs before I reach for my phone. Two p.m. I must have slept through the whole morning, which means definitely no lunch with her mother. We probably won’t even make it back for dinner with mine.
There are a few messages waiting for me, along with a dozen emails, but I decide to deal with them later as I head to the bathroom, glancing out the window to check the…avalanche?
