Page 129 of Heart of Thorns
“Cassius.”
I reach out blindly.
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
My mind is fuzzy. I open my eyes and focus on the ceiling tiles, blinking a few times until my vision clears. My head doesn’t hurt like it did before. Everything kind of feels a bit removed, but it’s familiar.
I felt this way on pain meds after my knee…
A shudder rolls up my spine. That didn’t happen this time, right? I look down at my body. There’s a light on behind my head, and it casts strange shadows across the bed. But my body seems to be intact. There’s no extra padding or bandages on my legs, just blankets.
I wiggle my toes to prove that I can.
Someone takes a breath, and my attention moves toward the darkened window. Then lower, to the couch under it.
Briar is asleep, her arm folded under her head, a blanket draped over her legs.
My heart squeezes.
She’s okay.
She wouldn’t be on a shitty hospital room couch if she wasn’t.
I gaze at her silently, absorbing her hair piled in a messy bun, strands loose and sticking out at all angles. She’s in one of my sweatshirts, the black material swamping her frame. My throat dries when I find the butterfly bandage on her head, over her right eyebrow.
How did she get hurt?
“Bri—” My voice scratches. I clear my throat and try again. “Kitten.”
Her eyes flutter open, and she slowly sits up.
I’m rewarded with a brilliant smile, the likes of which I haven’t seen in a while. I could bottle that smile and drink it on my darkest days, knowing it would make everything better.
“You’re awake.” She shifts to the edge of the couch, her fingers digging into her thighs. “How do you feel?”
I don’t reply—not verbally anyway. I just hold my hand out to her.
She hesitates, then gets up and crosses the room. When her palm slides against mine, a knot in my chest loosens. I exhale, long and slow.
“Better now,” I finally say.
“You had me worried.”
“I’m okay.” I hope. I don’t actually know if that’s true. “Come here.”
Shifting to the side reveals just how sore my body is, but I try to mask it. I create a space for her and lift the blankets, and she just stares at me for a long moment.
“Kitten, get in this bed.”
She shakes her head, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, and kicks off her shoes. She climbs in and helps me fix theblankets over both of us. On her side, curled into me, she shares my pillow and watches the side of my face.
“I’ve never been so scared,” she admits in a low voice.
My throat works. “Me neither.”
“I’m so glad you’re alive.”
I choke on a laugh. “Same.”