Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I thought about Judy’s words my whole drive home. Was it so bad to want to be needed? It gave my life meaning and purpose. Sure, sometimes I put my own desires last, but I managed.
As I entered the house, I resolved to put my need for sleep above my urge to check on Declan, but then I noticed his door was open with a low light on. Oz lay sprawled on the foot of the bed while Declan reclined against the pillows, damp towel over his face, covers half off.
Uh-oh. So much for sleep.
“You okay?” I asked from the doorway as if it wasn’t already clear he wasn’t.
“Not really.” Declan released a groan. He had a bare chest again, but mercifully, he appeared to have on gray sweatpants. “Sick headache that won’t quit. Oz seems to think he’s my nurse.”
“He’s good at that.” I strode over to the bed. “Tell me about the headache.”
“You’re coming off a long shift.” Declan pulled the towel off his face and struggled to sit up. “You don’t need my complaints.”
I helped him sit up, arranging the pillows behind him.
“I’m still in nurse practitioner mode.” I tried to sound a little less worn out than I felt. “And you’re a heck of a lot less trouble than the parade of second-guessing parents I dealt with tonight. God save me from patients who love amateur medical research.”
“Helicopter parents are the worst.” Declan made a sour face. “I thought about calling my dad after I puked the second time, but I didn’t want the lecture.”
“You threw up?” I bent to examine him more closely. His skin was pastier than usual, a more sickly shade of pale.
“From the headache pain, yeah.” He gave a weak wave of a hand. “And it’s the usual headache stuff, just a bad one. Light sensitivity, upset stomach, throbbing pain. I’m exhausted, yet I can’t seem to sleep. The meds aren’t helping, and yes, I took them for once.”
“Hmm.” I made a thoughtful noise. If Declan had taken medication, he had to be really hurting. I pulled out my pen light and slowly moved it in front of his face.
“Ow.” He tried to bat my hand away. “What are you doing?”
“Checking your pupils,” I said patiently. “Trying to evaluate if this is concerning enough to take you in to rule out another hemorrhage.”
“It’s not.” Declan sounded like an authority, but I wasn’t so sure. “It’s a migraine. I know them by now.”
“I trust you to know your own body—”
“Thank you.” He cut me off with a tight smile.
“But I think you should call your neurologist in the morning.”
“Maybe.” He sounded like he was only humoring me, which was hardly reassuring. Crossing the room, I dragged the chair closer to the bed.
“What are you doing?” Declan’s frown deepened. “You look dead on your feet. I’m not going to ask you to read after a twelve-hour shift.”
I stifled a yawn. “I’m not going to deny being tired, but I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone in case this worsens. I can stay, or I can set alarms to come back and check—”
“I’m not a cake.” He threw up his hands before patting the bed next to him. “If you’re intent on keeping an eye on me, at least sit where it’s comfortable with your feet up.”
The offer to sit next to him was too tempting on multiple levels. The bed was cushy with a padded headboard and putting up my tired feet sounded heavenly. Before I could overthink the choice, I slipped off my shoes and sat beside him, trying to keep a reasonable distance between our bodies.
“Do you want me to read?” I asked, pulling out my phone. I needed the distraction from his nearness. He might be hurting, but that only made me want to touch him more. “I don’t want to accidentally fall asleep here.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” A slow blush spread up his pale cheeks. “Anyway, yeah, read a little if you’ve got energy.”
“For the vicar?” I smiled over at him, hoping like heck I could stay awake longer than him. “Always.”
Chapter Eleven
Declan
I woke up groggy in the weird not-quite morning, not exactly night hours, but remarkably, I wasn’t in pain. My headache had retreated, my leg wasn’t throbbing, and apparently, I’d found a sleep position that worked because I had none of my usual aches and stiffness.
Well, something was stiff. Very stiff, indeed. I was immediately and acutely aware of Jonas lying beside me, asleep with soft, even snores. The low bedside light was still on, allowing me to take stock of the situation. When Jonas had first sat on the bed, he’d left a good three feet of space between us on the queen mattress, but sometime after we both drifted off, our bodies had migrated.
We’d found each other, and the dog had found a new resting spot under the window. Like Jonas, Oz was sprawled out and fast asleep, but I was way more concerned with Jonas’s nearness.