Page 88 of Lawless

Parting my lips, I attempt more words, but despite moving my tongue and wanting to say them, nothing comes out.

“Shit,” he hisses, clearly frustrated.

I want to open my eyes. I want to see him and let him see that I’m here, that I’m awake, but they don’t comply with my brain. Nor does the rest of my body, it seems, when I try to move again.

It must have been a fluke before.

Every inch of me now feels like it’s been filled with concrete.

“Do you need a drink?” he asks, a beat before a straw presses against my lips.

Somehow, I manage to find the strength to take a sip.

It feels like heaven as the cool water slides down my parched throat, easing the pain there.

But I never find the strength to look at him, and instead, the darkness pulls me under again. But before I go, I don’t miss the warmth of his hand wrap around mine. He says something, but the words are nothing more than a deep growl.

They’re enough.

He’s here.

* * *

Everything is a little clearer again when I come to next time, although there is no one barking orders on the phone, there is… well, nothing. And that alone is enough for my eyes to pop open.

The curtains might be closed, but the sun hiding behind them still burns my eyes.

I’ve been out of it a while, that much is obvious, but everything else is fuzzy.

There is pain, so much pain, both physically and mentally, but for some reason, I can’t grasp the edges hard enough to drag them to the present.

“R-Reid?” I stutter, my eyes focused on the ceiling.

“J?” His voice washes through me like silk over the most delicate of skin.

Alana.

But again, before memories clear, he’s there, sitting on the edge of the bed and looming over me like the imposing Hulk that he is.

“Hey,” he says softly. So fucking softly, it makes something tickle at the back of my nose.

What the fuck is that?

It’s just Reid. Why the fuck am I getting all emotional?

“Fuck, it’s good to see those eyes, J,” he comments, staring right into them.

The tickle intensifies until my eyes begin to burn.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his eyes darting between mine as if he’s searching for something.

It takes me a moment to formulate a reply.

“Confused.”

“You’ve been sedated for two days, J. That’s to be expected.”

My brow crinkles with a frown.